One Choice
by K.M. Star
Summary: What if Merlin had made just ONE choice differently?    What if, instead of directing Morgana to outside help with her problems, Merlin chose to help her himself? What would be different? What would remain the same?    Do you want to find out?
1. The Choice

WARNING: This story contains spoilers for anyone who hasn't seen season 2. :) (That's right. In fact, it's so spoilererific, I couldn't even give you the real description before!

...So no saying I didn't warn you! :D )

What would have happened if, instead of sending Morgana to the druids, Merlin had offered to help him herself? If his choices had never put the druids in danger, and Mordred had never been cast away from the people he could call family?

How much would the story change, if Morgana never had to feel like she was all alone?

One choice, as the name implies, explores a different route the story could have taken, if - as the name implies - he had simply made one choice differently. (Complete, of course, with a reason why he would have made that choice to begin with. :) )

Merlin bit his lip as he glanced out the window, wondering if he'd made the right choice by sending Morgana to the druids. It could lead to disaster if she was caught; it would destroy her if she stayed. He could have just chosen to reveal himself to her, of course. He'd have just had to face Gaius's ferocity, the possibility of Uther ordering his execution, Arthur's betrayed looks even as the prince worked to get him out of Camelot, no doubt alienating himself from his father and potentially destroying the kingdom in the process, at the very least destroying their joint destiny of protecting the kingdom…

No. He'd made the right choice. He'd done whatever he could for her without unnecessary risk to himself. Even if unnecessary risk to himself had ever stopped him in the past. It had never seemed unnecessary in the past. She could get her help elsewhere. From the druids, who would teach her. Not from him. If she stayed with him, there'd just be two targets for Uther's magic-hating rage if they were found out. It was safer, the way he had done it. Sending her away. He had done the right thing.

He'd been repeating that in his mind for the last three hours, however, and it still hadn't driven the bad taste from his mouth. Never mind risking Gaius's anger with the little bit he'd done – just a few directions, really, nothing special at all… not that Gaius would see it that way. He would deal with that when it came, though it was an unpleasant thought.

What put a bad taste in his mouth was knowing that, yet again, he was keeping secrets from someone he cared about. Not that he had had as much contact with her as Arthur, or Guinevere, or even Uther, indirectly; but he hated lying to any of them. Except Uther, who seemed like a prick most of the time; and he mostly wanted to tell Arthur because he was tired of working day and night just be beaten about as an idiot in the vague hope that they might one day accomplish something great together.

And he was distracting himself. It seemed that was all he was really good for, after all; distracting himself from the worry that something was going to go brilliantly wrong, and he wouldn't be able to stop it. But he'd done what he'd had to do. He'd helped Morgana to a path where she would learn her magic. It would work out all right. It had to. It wouldn't be fair otherwise. He'd done the right thing.

Merlin returned to the window with a sigh, wishing, just once, that he could rely upon the world to be "fair."

He could see Morgana from his window, darting out under heavy cloak; he'd never considered how supicious looked, before. Darting out under heavy cloak to cover one's features, on a warm summer night; he mused idly that he was going to have to change his own tactics of slipping out. She seemed to be making good progress, at least.

Merlin's eyes trailed over the courtyard, mostly quiet. She had chosen break in the guard patrol, so there shouldn't be trouble." His eyes locked on a passing shadow, his breath catching and slowly loosening when a cat slinked from the shadows. She would be fine. It wasn't as if the guards ever walked fast or slow. They would stick to their times, to the letter. They were trained for that; or something.

…He was going to die of a heart attack, worrying. He was certain of it.

Allowing his head to smack against the glass, he took another breath, his eyes losing focus as the smooth surface drained some of his frantic energy from him with its cool touch. Another shadow flickered at the corner of his eyes; another cat, no doubt. He didn't let it concern him, until he saw a flicker of flames reflecting off steel.

His head lifted, his eyesight narrowing upon a guard. Walking quicker than he otherwise should have. Directly toward where Morgana was making her escape.

Letting out a soft curse made up on the spot, he took for the stairs, the hard stone sending shockwaves through his shoes and up his legs. He ignored the slowly growing ache, pushing off the wall when he reached the corner and half stumbling down the remaining flight of steps until he reached the last one. Barely keeping his balance, he made a turn for the door and dove out into the light, ignoring the possibility that he could be seen as he ran toward where Morgana was.

"Who's there!"shouted the guard.. He could see Morgan just ahead, still wrapped under her cloak, just under an overhang from the stalls. It was dark. The guard had a sword out. Things were about to get ugly.

Flinging himself at Morgana, he whispered a spell, feeling the satisfying surge of power rush through his body. His eyes heated with a familiar light as the overhang crumbled where they'd been, the dust obscuring them. Not waiting for a chance to explain, he grabbed the confused Morgana's hand and dragged her away, catching sight of the woman with a sigh of relief; he didn't know what he'd have done if it was the wrong woman underneath the cloak.

It was only after he had her huddled in the stable, the guards call still ringing in his ear, that he realized she could have explained her presence in the castle courtyard with far less trouble.

(I hope you enjoy the chapter, and that you'll tune in for a new one next week. :) If you're one of those who keep asking me for a new Strawberry and Eggs chapter, you'll get that in two days! :D

Oh, and the obligitory disclaimer of course - I own none of Merlin.

Otherwise I'd have dang well written this story line to begin with. :D )


	2. Missed Clues

The straw scratched against Merlin's hands as he pushed himself up. He did his best to ignore the soft substance his boot was sinking into as he pushed himself away from Morgana. Her eyes were locked on him; his own were half lidded, refusing to make contact as he dusted himself off and offered her his hand. She didn't take it, just looking at him.

"You used magic."

The word hung in awkward silence for a moment, as if the entire world had stepped in horse dung all at the same time and everyone was afraid to speak of it. The buzzing of a fly above his shoe sounded like a cacophony during the moments it took him to break the silence.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"You used magic." Still ignoring his hand as she picked herself up off the ground. "To get us away from that guard. You used magic!"

"You must have banged your head when I – when I pushed you…" Merlin wondered if the punishment for pushing the queen's ward was execution as well, or just lashings. He bet Arthur could talk Morgana down to just lashings. "You should… you should rest your head…" the warlock glanced around, keeping a hold on his hysterical urge to laugh; plenty of "soft things" but nothing she could use as a pillow. It was a shame he didn't know a spell to conjure one; he could only be executed once, after all.

"You know magic," she repeated, more firmly. "That's why you know where the druids live, isn't it? You can use magic! And you didn't tell me!"

"Shhh! Keep your voice down," he muttered, peering out of the stable for any sign of the guard; they seemed to have lost him in all the dust. One problem down at least; that just left the bigger one. Giving Morgana his best fierce look, he stood on tip toe and looked her in the eye, taking a deep breath .

"What are you doing?"

He faltered, the breath rushing out of him as he stumbled back a step. "Um… threatening you to stay silent about this to the king?"

"Well it looks bloody ridiculous." She frowned, searching the stable for a moment before grabbing a barrel and pulling it out. Dusting off the top with a hand, she settled herself on it, ignoring Merlin's incredulous look as she met his gaze with her own. "Teach me."

He felt his jaw drop as if from a distance, Morgana's words slowly sinking into his brain. There was a moment of processing during which his jaw opened and closed of its own accord, before his hand lifted, and dropped, then rose again with one finger out stretched. "Wha?"

"I don't remember you being such an imbecile, Merlin. I asked you to teach me." She raised an eyebrow, haughty despite her undignified perch. "You can't be so stupid as to not know what it means, can you?"

"I just use magic to save the king's ward from his own guard; don't tell me how stupid I can be," he muttered, looking away. He turned back after a moment, finding the dung matted straw slightly less appealing than Morgan's heated glare. "Are you mad at me, or something?"

"Mad at you?" She leaned forward, her feet brushing against the ground for a moment as if she was going to stand, and then sliding back up the barrel as she held herself ramrod straight, queenly grace a la stinky stable. "I wasn't aware you were worth being mad at, Merlin. Perhaps if you were a being of higher class, I might be willing to spare a few bits of choice advice for you."

"Okay, now you're just talking like Arthur. It's got to be the horse smell – hold on one moment, and I'll-"

"Well if he has to deal with you all the bloody day no wonder he's such a prick!" Morgana rocked back, her eyes wide as if she too were surprised by her outburst. She took a moment to settle herself, taking a deep breath before finally locking her gaze to Merlin's; she looked hurt.

"I have been pouring my heart out to you for the last twenty four hours, Merlin, in a way that by all rights should have gotten me killed, and you let me languish for those hours before throwing me off to some strangers I don't even know in the bare hopes they could teach me, despite the fact that you could have done it yourself at any moment you damn well pleased." She closed her eyes, taking another breath as she put on a mask of stately composure. "I am asking you for your help because I need it, Merlin; and because you are currently the only being in this castle I can afford to call my friend without fear of betrayal; and because I am scared, Merlin, of going out into those woods on a rumor, almost as scared as I am of staying here. But if you think any of that means you can just play around with me in my time of needs, then… then…" She took a shuddering breath, turning her head aside so that Merlin couldn't see it. "You are not the friend I thought you were; even if our friendship was limited to begin with."

"Morgana, I…" Merlin hesitated, taking a deep breath of his own and slowly releasing it. "I need to think, for a little bit," he whispered, heading toward the stable door.

"What am I going to do? Turn you in as a magic user to the king?" There was another awkward silence, this time broken by his footsteps as he headed for the stable door. "Merlin?" she whispered.

"I should have an answer for you in the morning."

"No. I mean… this has been bugging me for a while; we're in a stable, correct?"

He paused, not quite turning but not moving forward either. "Yeah? What's your point?"

"Merlin… where are the horses?"

(Author's Rant Corner:

I promise I won't make too big a habit out of these cliff hangers - but I do need a way to get them out of the stable. ^^

It's a bit late while I'm writing this, so hopefully there's not too many mistakes - almost 4 AM! I took forever today. ^^; Sunday-syndrome maybe? :P

Anyway, I'd like to thank everyone for the flood of reviews, and story alerts. It's great knowing everyone is interested, and I'll try to match your intents - for those curious, yes this story is going to have romance (that's not a spoiler, it's one of the genres i used. ^^; ) - but that doesn't mean I'm going to make it EASY. :P This is a cause and effect story, so it's quite literally all about the consequences of one's actions. :D

Keeping that in mind, though, feel free to let me know if you ever think I'm moving out of character - character development is one thing, but I want the characters to start off true to themselves. :) (After all, the whole point of the story is that only _one_ thing altered from the original storyline!

To be specific - and I must give thanks to a friend for having figured this out - the normal servant girl in the kitchen's caught the flue, and the guard had no one to flirt with that night... Ah, the things that can make a man walk faster... like heavy set cooks armed with rolling pins... :P

Hope to see you all next week. :) )


	3. Excuses

Merlin cocked his head to the side, mouth still hanging slightly ajar. Morgana's question rang in his head – where were the horses? A stable should have horses. A stable where one could step in horse shit should have horses. Where the hell were the horses?

"I think I hear the horses," he whispered, a little numb. He could feel them, too, the ground vibrating softly beneath him. Morgana was the first to move, though, gripping his arm and tugging him toward the exit. He resisted for a moment, trying to catch sight of the horses, but slipping with her second tug. The force of it was surprising, spinning him around to look into her eyes, their faces mere centimeters away from each other.

Morgana shoved him against the stable wall. "Unless you want the knights reporting to Uther how you had me in the stables, I suggest you follow my lead. Come on." She tugged at his arm again, traveling toward one of the castle doors. They flung open without her hands touching them, leading to a soft sound of pain from inside; she flinched, along with Merlin, but moved on without looking.

"Are you… still mad at me?" asked Merlin.

"What I am," she whispered back, "is trying to get us to safety; some of us offer help to our friends without bothering to lie to them."

"You're mad," he muttered, glancing away and letting her grip on his arm guide him. He almost tripped on the stairs, but managed to catch himself before slamming into her back. "I had a good reason, you know…"

"What you had, Merlin, was fear." She glared at him, waiting for him to look away and then giving a nod of satisfaction. "That said, I am unwilling to let you die on me; though I may have you chained if you continue to be so damn stubborn about teaching me magic."

"I told you," he whispered, glancing down at the stone steps beneath his feet. "I need to think about it…"

"By which you mean you need to think of a way out of the mess you found yourself in, no matter what harm it does to me."

He winced, biting his lip. "I'd never willingly hurt you, you know; you're my friend as much as… as much as anyone else in this castle."

"No?" she glanced behind her, raising an eyebrow as she paused in her ascent. "You'd just leave me feeling scared, confused, and alone, ready to go out in the wilderness without any knowledge that there was someone else who shared my fate?"

"Don't talk to me about fate," he moaned, shaking his head when she raised her eyebrow again. "It's nothing; I just need to think, alright?" he tried raising an eyebrow himself, failed miserably, and settled for glaring at her instead. "You shouldn't just… assume I don't intend to help you, you know."

"So you intend to?" she demanded, leaning close. He leaned back, uncomfortable, picking a few black strands of her hair off of his face and watching them dangle down beside her.

"I… I just need to…" he sighed, giving up on the internal battle. "I have to find a spell book that's built for you; you're a witch, and I'm a warlock; I don't know whether my magic will work for you."

"And how do you intend to find out?" she pressed. "I don't want this to become some indefinite excuse for not teaching me, Merlin."

"You don't have to be so untrusting, _Morgana_," he whispered back. "I'm going to ask… a friend… who you're not allowed to meet." He felt his cheeks heating up, but forced himself to look into her eyes. She looked like she wanted to slap him.

"And why precisely am I not allowed to meet them?" she demanded.

"Because he'd probably eat you; do you hear footsteps?" he demanded, walking forward without missing a beat. He grabbed Morgana's hand when her grip started to slip, tugging him along. "I think someone's coming up the stairs."

"Eat me?" she whispered, faintly. "Merlin, what sort of friends do you keep?"

"Oh, you know, a few sorcerers, a couple druids, a dragon chained in the castle basement… do we really need to get into these things?" he demanded, dragging her behind him as he headed up the stairs. She was surprisingly good at resisting, but gave way when the first few steps were cleared and allowed him to take her up without protest.

"You're friends with a dragon?" she asked. Her voice was matter of fact, but her eyes were slightly wide when he glanced back at her.

"Not quite a friend," he admitted. "More of an… acquaintance. Who has chosen not to eat me. So far." He fixed his eyes ahead of him, focusing on the stairs until he could remove himself from them, and then looking straight ahead until they reached her rooms. She didn't speak, even when he opened the door and gestured for her to go in. Not until he turned to go.

"Merlin?" she whispered, waiting for him to turn around.

"Yeah?" he asked, making another attempt at raising an eyebrow; Morgana smirked, enough to tell him he'd done it wrong.

"Don't get killed, Merlin," she whispered. "I still haven't stopped wanting to stab you myself."

"Goodnight Morgana," he smiled, waiting for the door to close before slumping; he wasn't looking forward to talking to Kilgharrah before bed; the so called great dragon was a bloody great pain.

Arthur's Rant:

This is one bit where I'm separating from the show; in most things, I'll follow cannon (outside of plot lines, and anything that can be explained by cause and effect, of course. :P ) but this bit of the show has always been rather undefined for me: Exactly what it means to be a warlock or a witch. Clearly it's considered different than being a sorcerer – but is it power? Or is the nature of the magic they know? Merlin definitely seems stronger than a sorcerer – but he always uses generic magic that any sorcerer could use if they had the strength.

The idea that Morgana might need to learn _specific_ magic appeals to me, and the show leaves enough open for me to go along with it. ^^ (Mostly, however, it'll probably just be highlighting new bits of the old religion not fully explored in the series so far – and which will hopefully not create any active conflicts. ^^;

Other than that – I just want to thank a special friend of mine; she dared me to write this story in the first place, and she's been my sounding board for ideas – allowing herself to be hopelessly spoiled so that I can plot out the path I want the story to take.

I hope she reads this one day. :) )


	4. Dragons in Dungeons

Merlin left Morgan's room at a quick pace that slowed the closer he came to his destination. By the time he had reached the final steps to the dragon's dungeon, he had frozen entirely, trying to decide which option was the least painful: getting captured by the horridly inept guards, or facing Kilgharrah twice in one day.

He took a deep breath, placing a hand against the roughhewn rock as he finally stepped down, picking up his pace again. He lit the torches with a word as he went, more grateful for the light than worried about being caught for it. Arthur would most likely tell him that he was being overdramatic, taking each step so carefully. He hoped Arthur never had to see exactly what he was being careful of.

"You came back." The words washed over him in a low rumble, part amusement part matter of fact, but no real surprise. "Did you change your mind, Merlin? Has it all gone so horridly wrong already?" There was a snap of wings setting into place, followed by a wash of air as the great dragon settled on his rock with a snort, his chain settling around him. "Have you decided to kill her already?"

"No." He coughed, shifting his feet against the rocks a little He looked up the expanse of tan hide with something approaching bravery, firming his voice a little "No. I've come to ask you for help, Kilgharrah; for Morgana."

"And to set me free?" He leaned his head down, his yellow eyes blinking as they focused in on Merlin. "I do recall we had a deal to that affect, didn't we?" he whispered. His breath was warm against Merlin's skin, making him sweat; he refused to give into it, and took a step forward.

"You'll get your freedom when the people I care about are safe; that's the only reason I dealt with you in the first place! Now tell me, is there any place-"

"I will not help the witch, Merlin." Kilgharrah flapped his wings, as if preparing for flight. "I've already told you that – the path of helping her leads to doom."

"Well it's too late for that, now isn't it?" Merlin snapped, regretting it when the head swung back toward him. At least he had Kilgharrah's attention, though.

"What do you mean it's too late for that?" Kilgharrah's breath came out in a whispered threat, his weight shifting from foot to foot as he took an agitated step forward, and then back. "What have you done, Merlin?"

"Nothing," he muttered, glancing away, and hurridly back again when Kilgharrah took a step forward. "It's nothing important. I just… allowed her to find out about my magic. So now we're in the same… boat…"

His words trailed back as the creature titled his head back in a roar, a gout of flame disappearing as it shot towards the roof above. There was a rattle of stone, and then empty silence, broken only by heavy panting before Kilgharrah looked down again. "You allowed the witch to learn of your magic, and you call it nothing?"

"I told you not to call her that," Merlin protested, hoping that his steps backwards went unnoticed, The roar had rattled him. "And it doesn't matter what I did; she knows my secret, now. If she's going to be as bad as you say, than her exposure will lead to my downfall anyway. You're plans will be ruined." He took a step forward at that. "Promise or not, you'll never be truly free; Camelot will never have its peaceful rule. Everything you've worked for-"

A low pitched rumble made him back off again, a hiss of steam and flame escaping from between the dragon's teeth. It faded after a moment, replaced by a chuckle. "You can be cruel when you're angry, Merlin. Has anyone ever told you that?"

He shifted back and forth, a little uncomfortable with the assessment, before glancing back into Kilgharrah's eyes. "She's my friend. Are you going to help me or aren't you?"

"I can hardly help a girl you won't let me see," he mused, tilting his head back and forth as he thought, "Perhaps if you brought her here…"

"No." He kept his voice firm on that one, not backing away even a step. His supposed benefactor snorted in response.

"Do you think I'm going to eat her, Merlin?" He was quiet when the warlock didn't respond, and snorted again a moment later. "I assure you, Merlin, that I do not put everything into my mouth; witches are notoriously stringy." He smiled when Merlin glanced up at him, revealing sharp teeth that Merlin swallow, and shifting his feet as if showing off his weight. "They are notoriously squishy when young, however…"

"I'm not going to give you chance to kill her." Merlin looked the dragon straight in the eye, at that, refusing to look away first. Eventually Kilgharrah flapped his wings as if to go. "There's a book; in the vaults. Look for a red cover with gold lettering, in the room furthest to the back; and do not say that I haven't warned you, Merlin; I take no responsibility if you must use what's in that book against her instead."

"Thank you." His voice was terse and his footsteps were quick as he walked back up in the stairs; he had directions, at least. Even if they did require him crawling through the vaults; and stealing the keys to do it from Arthur, no doubt.

He sighed, feeling suddenly tired as he wandered towards the halls to his own bed. He was getting the distinct impression that nothing was ever going to be easy.

Author's Rant: Does anyone else think that Camelot's guards must be as inept as a cartoon villain's henchmen? I mean, seriously, how many things have gone on in that place and never been seen? Things have _exploded_ in that castle without a one of them coming to take a look!

For goodness sakes, I don't know how Uther ever stayed alive before Merlin came – that entire castle is a pincushion waiting for one decrepit old man to wander the halls with a knife, singing all the while about how he's going to slit the king's throat!

Quite convenient for the story, though. ^^ (And thankfully I have a decent explanation! :D )

Other than that… I'm hoping to start doing some longer chapters; I'd like to be able to pick up the pace some, if that's possible, particularly since I'm only posting these once a week.


	5. Sleepyness

Merlin woke next to his bed, his forehead lying on the stone floor. He clutched at it for a moment, his fingers traveling across the creases in his forehad as he tried to remember what had happened the night before. The soot buried beneath his fingernails offered an unwanted reminder, the late night spent dodging guards coming to the forefront of his mind. Three hours listening to a maid "clean" a guard's armor had been followed by another set of returning knights, and finally Gaius himself, busily preparing a potion.

He didn't remember much after reaching his room; the red marks on his nose and forehead spoke of why, along with his unslept in bed. Perhaps Gaius would even praise him for making it properly. He laughed weakly at that, wishing the motion didn't grate at his throat quite so badly.

It took a little effort to put on his normal grin; as if nothing had happened at all. It took a little more to straighten his back and hide some of his weariness; not all of it, though; he thought he'd collapse again if he tried to internalize all that. The floor was looking rather comfortable on second glance.

He shook his head fiercely, enduring the unpleasant feel of flopping hair as he convinced himself to take the first step out the door, and tried to trick his body into thinking momentum was doing the rest. It took a few minutes, but he was able to walk properly by the time he left his rooms, and the trip to Arthur's chambers didn't take nearly as long as he'd have expected; simply twice as long as he'd have liked.

The door felt twice as heavy as he was used to, the grain biting into his fingers a little as he pushed it open. The carpet was nice, meanwhile; he imagined it would be much nicer to sleep on than the cold hard floor. Perhaps he could sleep underneath Arthur's bed. He could say he was looking out for assassins, or something.

But no, he had to open the drapes, and put on his smile, and forget worries about destinies and evil and magical books. "Rise and shine," he smiled, taking a somewhat vindictive pleasure in how the light spread across Arthur's bed.

"Do you have to say that every morning, Merlin?" the prince demanded, pulling the pillow under his head. The big feather pillow. Forget the book; hell hounds take the book, and him too; he'd go to the executioner's block willingly if they just gave him five minutes with that pillow. "Every damn day…"

"it's in my job description, sire," Merlin murmured, tearing his gaze from the pillow as Arthur sat up. "Right up there with dodging the cup you're going throw at me."

Arthur's hand froze, moving slowly back to his pillow as he began tugging off his own shirt. "I'm changing it."

"The morning saying or the cup throwing, sire?" asked Merlin. "Because, personally, I really hope it's the cup throwing; I've tried a multitude of other lines in my head, and they just don't sound right…" He trailed off, clenching his jaw shut around a yawn.

"I'm changing the job description from now on, you can say…" the prince paused, silken top still stretched between his arms and over his head as his familiar and smarmy grin spread across his face. "Well, why do you have to say anything, Merlin?'

"I'll have to bring it up with the other servants, Sire; it's a tradition, you know; talking. Perhaps we'll put it to a vote."

Right on schedule flew towards his head; a little behind schedule himself, he failed to duck, feeling it glance against his shoulder as he moved towards the door. He braved a second assault to ask, "Does this mean you don't want breakfast, sire?" and paid for it with a lump of silk to the forehead, before dodging into the hall. He was the one who would have to clean the dust off that shirt, too, in all likelihood; as if cleaning silk was actually easy, or something. But he'd grimace about that later.

He'd been kicked out of the room, which was a good start. The next step was leaning into the corner, and slowing his breath. He tried not to make a sound, yet alone a laugh, as Arthur struggled with his own pants and clothes, stomping his foot in frustration a moment later, undoubtedly looking for something or another. The hard part came when he strolled out of his room shouting Merlin's name in a mixture of anger and desperation; it was hard not to move when a door came that close to hitting one's skull.

He moved into the room quickly and quietly, heading to the door and grabbing the set of keys that Arthur kept on him; he used one of the iron keys to lock the door, so that Arthur couldn't blame him for being too negligent in his duties; but that put another risk on his shoulders. If anyone caught him, there would be no putting the blame on a random intruder. If he was caught he was caught.

Thankfully it was rather hard for the guards to catch anyone without an imperial order at their throat. The thought made him smile, just a little bit, as he walked away from Arthur's rooms and towards the vault. He tried to keep aware of the people, but the maids blurred together, and the servants, and the cooks; he was grateful that he saw no knights, as he was fairly certain any attempts to bow would have led to another nap; and an angry Arthur if he was found. Instead he was merely required to stay on his feet for a twenty minute walk through the castle, weaving through poorly guarded areas, slipping past another maid "cleaning" armor, and moving down stairs he shouldn't have been allowed to even see.

He was too tired to grin when he opened the gate, but a soft smile spread across his lips regardless when he moved through the doors. Though he ignored the items kept with difficulty, he moved to the back of the vault; it was pathetically easy to pull it from the shelf, which of course put him on immediate guard; but Uther would never use any magical traps, of course.

He smiled, tucking it quietly beneath his arm and moving back out again, locking the door and making it halfway up the staircase before he heard the footsteps. He froze, his heart catching in his throat while his lungs closed up; there was no time to move.

"Merlin?" called Morgana. "Are you down here? You'd better be, after all the time I've spent tracking you."

"Morgana?" he asked, his breath leaving him in in a rush. "Morgana, what are you doing down here?"

"Following you, Merlin; I thought…" her voice trailed off, her footsteps continuing until she was standing in front of him. "Is that what you needed to find?" she asked, glancing at the book. "It's… smaller than I would have thought."

"Yeah, well, you're not the one carrying it." He forced a smile as he slipped past her on the stairs. "Come on, Morgana; we need to find a place to read it, still, right?"

"Merlin?" she called behind him; her voice was surprisingly soft, and her grip on his shoulder light when she turned him around; he offered no resistance.. "Merlin?" she repeated in a whisper. "Merlin? Are you… falling asleep?"

(Arthur's rant: Woot; a longer one. At least a little. :D

One of the interesting things about writing with Merlin, though is the realization that there's more to him than generally meets the eye – in the show, he often seems like he's just grinning – but then you get those moments where he just BURSTS out in emotion. But that means the emotion was probably there all along; which means, when writing him, I have to show the reverse – emotional turmoil interspaced with cheery dialogue as he hides how worried he is about everything.

Dang it, I hope I have an excuse to cheer that man up soon. ,

I love all the reviews, by the way – thanks for each and every one of them. :D )


	6. Silky Smooth

Merlin dozed lightly on the bed. It was softer than what he was used too, the sheets sliding nicely across his exposed skin. They made his clothes feel like something found in a midden heap. Scratchy bits of it irritated his still clothed flesh, only his hands and face gaining any real comfort from the soft blankets that covered him utterly in a desperate attempt to block out the sun. It helped very little, the warm heat making him sweat and dampen the cloth, the soft mattress only serving to remind him it wasn't his own, and that he'd most likely never sleep in it again. He tossed and turned, unable to even lie still for more than a minute at a time. But, eventually, exhaustion got the best of him. His eyelids began to droop, the heat becoming something distant and unimportant, He yawned, stretching his hands until they just barely poked out from under his cloth wrappings, and slowly slid into a deep sleep.

A soft pressure to Merlin's side tipped the bed, making him turn a little. He stretched again, trying to feel the disturbance. It was soft and round, shifting a little when he moved his hand around him, and making a little sound. It hit him when he squeezed, driving some of the air to his stomach and making him cough.

The air under the blanket, already stifling, was suddenly untenable. He wheezed in a few breaths and then pushed at the blanket, the obstruction making things more difficult by weighing the sheets down one side. By pushing the cloth at it, however, he finally managed to get first his head, and then the rest of his body free.

"Were you trying to kill me?" he demanded of Morgana, coughing a couple more times with a sullen glare in her direction.

She snorted, tossing a black wave of hair over her shoulder and tilting her head so that it was mostly covered in shadows. He could still see the faint tint of red in his cheeks, however, as she muttered "You _touched_ me. But that's not what's important right now."

"Not import…" he paused, taking a deep breath of the deliciously cool, if somewhat dusty, air. "Right. Whatever you say, Morgana. Not important…" He took another breath, aware of his gaze on her as his own eyes dipped down to the book. He glanced at her face, and watched a slow smile creep across her face as she lifted it back into the light.

Pale cheeks shone without a touch of blush. The smile ruined her dignity as she laid out the book, however, her hurried motions matching what was quickly becoming a grin as she pointed at a passage. "Look, Merlin – I've been reading about all sorts of things in this. Did you know that there's a spell to clean your clothes? And a spell to bring statues to life? And…" She jabbed at one, a happy smile on her face. "A spell to take care of dreams. I just need a few ingredients…"

Merlin glanced down at the book, reading the list before letting out an impressed rush of air. "A few ingredients my foot; mandrake roots, marsh reeds – there are things here I'm not even sure you can get in Camelot... we're talking the woods, the marshes…"

"Then I'll pack my bags." She slammed the book shut without waiting for him to pull away, slipping a piece of cloth in to mark her place, and hurrying to her closet. "Or is it just bag? How many things does Arthur usually pack for one of your little adventures? Clothes, I assume, weaponry – but I won't need armor, except maybe a bit of light chainmail…" She frowned, looking over her shoulder at the still gawking Merlin, now rubbing his nose slightly from where the book had slammed in front of him. "What are you doing, Merlin? Shouldn't you have at least started packing, yet?"

"Packing?" Merlin took a step back, shaking his head. "You can't just… pack! You're the king's ward!" he sputtered. "And we'll need foodstuffs, besides, so I can't start packing until the kitchen is really set up, and they have proper access to the food, or they'll just glare at me…"

Morgana lifted an eyebrow. Her expression seemed to be caught between that of imperial demand, and clownish laughter, her cheeks puffing up as she tried to hold it back. "I thought you were telling me something about being the king's ward? Shouldn't I be unallowed to leave my grounds, Merlin?" she demanded, turning around to poke a finger against his stomach. It was a little less pleasant than she might have meant, after her earlier punch. "Are you changing your mind on me already, Merlin?"

The warlock pushed her hand down with a heavily exaggerated grimace. "I tell Arthur the same thing every time he nearly gets himself killed; it must be something about being in Uther's household." He sighed, rolling his eyes as he walked towards the door. "You're in charge of telling him."

"Of course." She smiled sweetly at his back, the reflection from one of the mirrors giving him pause before he reached the door. "I'll tell Arthur all about it; if you want to tell the king where you're taking his daughter."

"I… ah…" Merlin swallowed, glancing over his shoulder. "I suppose some form of mystical beast won't do the trick?"

She shook her head slowly. The black wave of hair seemed to sparkle with as much mischief as her grin as she pushed him towards the door. "You deal with Arthur, Merlin; I'll handle Uther. We'll meet back in and hour or so – and god help you, you'd better knock, because if I'm changing I will throw a lightning bolt at you and damn the consequences."

"I didn't touch you on purpose you..." he trailed off when she raised an eyebrow again, ducking her head as she had before. He couldn't see well enough to tell, but it was a safe bet she was blushing again. "Right. Not important. What am I telling Arhur, again?"

"Silks." Her grin seemed to belay the very idea of embarrassment; he could already see the gears of her mind turning as she plotted out their journey. "You, Merlin, are going to help me collect some very fine silks."

(Alright, so this is another short one – but they'll be getting longer now that I have their first adventure. keep in mind "first" – these will largely be flowing one into another.

There will be one more short one, but it'll be updated mid-week around Thursday, or so. This update is in and of itself late (sorry; lost track of day.) and I don't want to waste a Sunday on what will basically amount to preparations. The chapter will be split between Merlin and Morgana, since they both have important things to take care of… but, important or not, they're slightly boring and I don't want to delay us a week because of them.)


	7. Preparations

Morgana strolled through the palace hallways; she walked with surety, though her instincts said to slip quietly. It seemed as if it had been too long since she had walked in places she was allowed to go, with one who was actually allowed to accompany her. If she kept up with Merlin, she might never be able to walk the halls unfettered again.

She shook that thought off quickly, physically moving her head back and forth. She glared at the first guard to look at strangely and lowered her head to hide her cheek's flush. Merlin was a servant; not her servant, but a servant. If she truly found herself walking with him that often, she'd merely find some form of excuse for it. Something the king would accept. A reason why a male servant would be walking through the halls with her when she had a perfectly serviceable maid; which wouldn't result in Guinevere being fired, or having her feelings hurt, or a myriad of other problems that could possibly develop from her as yet unformed plan to explain why she was spending so much time with a man.

It wasn't that farfetched, she reminded herself. She was on the way to give just such an excuse, after all; but that was for a one time trip. Something more long term would take effort – but she was going to have to spend quite a large portion of time with Merlin if she actually wanted to learn anything about magic; she would have to think about it later. Perhaps she could win a bet with Arthur for the free use of his servant.

Skirting around a few guards, she put that concern off to the side with the rest of them. The throne room was coming up to the right; she'd put on her best smile and explain what was happening; or what they wanted them to think was happening.

The story itself was simple enough, though. She was going to buy silks; silks that couldn't be found in Camelot. She wanted Merlin to come with her, because had more strength; he would make a fine escort. Arthur wouldn't be necessary in the slightest.

With any luck, Merlin would be making the same argument down the hall in Arthur's chambers. But like so much else, that wasn't an issue she could deal with directly. Instead, she gestured to the guards, and waited for them to open the throne room doors. She smiled, courtsied, looked into the kings eyes, and smiled wider as she told her story.

"What are you really doing?" demanded Arthur, lowering his glass. The orange juice inside slopped to the side, bringing a slight wince from Merlin, standing across the table. He covered it with a smile when Arthur glanced at him.

"You do realize I'm going to have to clean that up before I go?" he pointed out. "Do you have any idea how sticky that stuff is?"

"No, but I expect you won't tell me if you want to keep your tongue." Arthur smiled back when he said that; or pulled his lips back, at the very least. Though his eyes glinted in what might have been amusement, there was something less than nice in the way he leaned forward, elbow pressing against the wood.

"You know, sir, you're really going to have to work on those threats of yours if you're going to break in any other servants while I'm away; and I know how you get without us, Sire."

"Merlin. I asked what you were really doing with Morgana." The smile was fading from his lips; his tone was half a growl. "There is no way she is dragging you - you, not even her maid – across the country just to pick up an especially large orders of silk."

"Well, then, you'd best talk about it to Morgana, hadn't you?" Merlin's smile grew wider in proportion to Arthur's loss. "I'm afraid we servants don't get told much about that sort of thing, you know; part of your rule against talking, perhaps?"

Arthur threw the remainder of his glass at Merlin's head; the warlock ducked, as usual, but couldn't help but wince for real at the substance now spread across the formerly clean table and floor. He sighed, shaking head once to each side, and then glancing at Arthur in the eye. "You really should control your temper, Sire."

"Get out!" he snarled. "You can clean the floor after I finish my breakfast."

"I'll just get you some more juice than." Merlin's smile only widened at Arthur's growl, and he skirted out of the room with a quiet laugh. He wanted to enjoy himself in the little time he had left before leaving; considering the mess he expected to face when he returned, it would be a long time before he was allowed anywhere without Arthur again. For the time being, he intended to enjoy his freedom.

If one could call it that, when they were expected to pack chainmail for their lady.

(Author's Rant:

Okay, so it's not afternoon, and it's not technically Thursday anymore – but it IS an off-Sunday update.

On Sunday. I'll hopefully have something with a decent length, that advances the actual plot – this, while a necessary transition that helps steady the pacing and explain how they get from point A to point B, without interference from B C and D… is also a little bit boring, and irrelevant to the plot as a WHOLE.

So while I hope you enjoy it, I don't expect anything particularly grand to come from it. ^^; )


	8. That Path Was Beaten for a Reason!

Merlin met Morgana at the bottom of the steps. The dark haired Lady was standing impatiently, her foot tapping in irritation as she craned her neck to look somewhere over Merlin's head. She made no move to help him with the bags he was carrying, their weight beginning to drag across the ground now that he was nearing the horses.

"Do you think Arthur believed you?" she asked, quietly. Her lips moved little, her eyes never lowering. He glanced where she was looking, but saw nothing but a window, curtained by heavy purple drapes.

"Not really," he admitted, looking back to Morgana. She had one hand against her forehead, shading her eyes. He resisted the urge to check the window again. "Do you think Uther believed you?"

"I'm not sure," she admitted, leaning forward slightly. "Pack the horses up, would you Merlin?"

He nodded without comment, gripping the straps, and moving them onto the horses. They were already saddled, making his job easier than he would have expected. He thought he might have to thank the stable boys for that, at a later date, but was more concerned about getting the bags quickly secured to their proper horses. Morgana got most of the weapons; his horse gained most of the food. He was under no illusions as to which of them was better with a sword, or more capable of hunting down a dish, should the two of them get separated. Swords were just for waving around, so that people wouldn't be so suspicious when enemies started dropping around him.

"You ready, Merlin?" she demanded. He spun around, his eyes automatically moving up past the woman and towards the window she'd been looking at. The king's weathered face looked out, his gaze bearing down on them.

Merlin swallowed, trying to combat a sudden bout of parchness. "Y-Yeah." He swallowed again. "Yeah… just let me adjust a few straps…"

She nodded, glancing up to the window and giving a slight nod. Merlin kept an eye on her expression as his fingers moved over the straps, gripping the colder metal with one hand and pulling the leather tight, as the warm horse whickered above him.

Morgana's expression was filled by a forced grin. It filled her face with teeth, her lips stretched out enough to doubtlessly look realistic from a distance. Her eyes were blank, however, letting out none of what she was feeling when she twisted around. The smile faded as she turned to look at Merlin, leaving her face entirely cleared of emotion.

The horse Merlin was working on whickered again, its head butting him in the shoulder. He lost his balance, fingers gripping into the fur in order to stay upright, the beast wrenching itself free with a hasty step forward. His lips touched the dirt, in time with a cloud of dust from the horse's hoof.

Morgana giggled. The smile she wore when he looked up was tight lipped, but the amusement showed in her eyes. "I did that on purpose," he informed her. "Honest."

"Of course, Merlin," she murmured, patting him in the shoulder. Her fingers carefully brushed against his shoulder, the delicate digits picking out a few clumps of dirt that had embedded themselves in his clothes. "At least it wasn't horse dung, this time."

"I had to use a spell last time," he admitting, leaning close and keeping his voice low. Like Morgana, he didn't move his lips too much. "Can you imagine Arthur's expression if I'd walked in with those? 'Rise and shine, my lord; what smell do you mean, sire?'"

Morgan's smile widened, actually showing a hint of teeth. It wasn't as wide as her earlier grin, but the amusement shining in her eyes made up for that. Merlin smiled back at her, before turning back to the straps. Adjusting them on his own horse, he turned back to offer Morgana a head up. He was met by the sight of her thigh, its owner already moving her horse down the road. With a half strangled noise of surprise, he put his own foot inside a stirrup, pulling himself up to the horse's back. Gripping the mane in his hands, he managed to move his remaining foot to the other side, striking the horse with his heels to get it moving forward.

Morgana was smiling wider, again. Her gaze moved quickly to the dirt road ahead, but not before he caught sight of it. Moving faster, Merlin scowled at her. "I'm not so bad at the riding itself, you know."

"Of course not," she smiled. "I just thought you'd be a bit better at the mounting, what with how much you travel with Arthur."

"Yeah but… On foot…" he trailed off when he noticed her looking at him, feeling mildly embarrassed. "Arthur normally seems to want to walk everywhere; we only use the horses occasionally, so I'm not that good at mounting; and on the road, I can use magic to avoid looking like an idiot."

"Ahhhh." Her expression seemed friendly, some of the haughtiness wiped clean as they trotted away from the castle. "How long have you…?"

"As long as I can remember," he finished for her. "I had to learn the spells when I came here, but the basic abilities…"

"Ah. Did you… ever put your own room on fire?" she asked, glancing away.

Merlin shook his head, even though she couldn't see it. "Not that I'm aware of; I brought a statue to life, once." He smiled when she glanced at him. "Temporarily; I'm not sure what happened to it, either; it barked up a storm."

"You… brought a statue to life?" she questioned, her eyes slightly wide. "And it… barked…?" She placed against her lips, an action that did little to hide her smile, or muffle her laugh.

"It was a dog," he pointed out. She giggled again. He was relieved; the blank look in her eyes had been worrisome in a friend. "You don't want to know what it was like actually dragging it up those stairs."

"I'm sure," she murmured; her voice broke slightly at the end, but she managed to keep herself from bursting into giggles. That meant she either respected him, or disrespected giggles, but either way it saved him the tiny scrap of dignity. He might want to spend it on something other than humor later.

"Come along, Merlin," she said, smiling as she kneed her horse. It sped up, Merlin's horse following automatically, the dirt road passing beneath them in a symphony of clicks and clomps. The riders themselves were silent, sinking into thoughts as the first branches of the forest came up above their heads, the occasional leaf dropping down on them as they passed beneath.

Neither of them talked, but Merlin was certain Morgana had the same worries he had. Whether Arthur was following, and how close he would be. Whether the king had sent anyone else was less of a concern than whether Merlin's liege, and Morgana's foster brother, was going to make a decision to interfere. Both of their magic could be revealed, in that case.

It was an hour or two later that morgana finally drew her steed to a halt. The noon sun was presumably high in the sky, by the then, the light filtering through the leaves at a slightly different angle than it had before, though it still warmed the side of Merlin's head. It was not night, at the very least, or nearly late enough to come to a rest.

Morgana twisted around in her seat, keeping her eyes on Merlin as he came up alongside he. He glanced at her curiously, but she waited until his mare stopped before explaining. "This is where our path separates from the path we're _supposed_ to be going, to where we're actually going," she explained. "Can you make the path show us going all the way to the town?"

"I think so," he murmured, putting a hand out. He whispered a word, feeling the burn in his eyes that told him something was happening. He repeated it, louder, grunting as the spell left him. Two sets of tracks went down the next path.

"You'll have to destroy our own footprints once we're away," she pointed out. "We don't want anyone asking questions."

Merlin nodded, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. "I realize as much, my lady. May we please go?"

She was quiet for a long moment, before nodding. Her feet kicked, their horses moving forward almost in union, side by side along the path. The quiet of the forest didn't seem as peaceful anymore, though; the animal's chattering felt too loud, crowding out his ability to think. Or perhaps it was simply that they'd taken care of the problem he was thinking about.

Arthur would simply lose track of them if he followed. They didn't have an issue to worry about, on that front; except Arthur wanting to know where they'd been. He glanced at Morgana to ask her what her plans were, in that case, but paused with his mouth half open. Her eyes were locked on him, moving back and forth; they looked troubled.

"My lady?" he questioned, tightening the grips on his reigns. They bit into his flesh, but he didn't let go; he was worried, and it kept his mind focused on the present.

"I'm the one supposed to be mad at you," she informed him after a moment. He gave her a confused look which she ignored. "You failed to tell me things I deserved – needed – to know. You would have lied even after your secret was revealed beyond a shadow of a doubt if you thought you could have gotten away with it – and you wouldn't have taught me a thing if I hadn't argued for it myself."

"I…" Merlin glanced away; her eyes were blank again, rather than angry; that felt worse. "I might have… come around on my own, eventually."

She made a small sound, pursing her lips. She didn't sound convinced. "The point , Merlin," she murmured after a minute, "is that I'm supposed to be mad at you, for personally logical reasons; so why did I get the feeling in our last exchange that _you_ were mad at _me_?"

"I'm not… that's just… You can't tell me how I feel!"

Morgana's serenely lifted brow sent a surge of horrified embarrassment through Merlin, but he didn't glance away. He hoped his cheeks were still pale, but they felt warm. "I'm not a child, Morgana; I don't need you to instruct me in everything."

She frowned, tilting her head slightly to the side and looking him up and down again. "Arthur always instructs you in everything, from what I can tell; you mostly seem to joke with him about it."

"Well, yeah, but he's _trying_ to be condescending. And he's not allowed to know everything I do to save him…"

"Save him?" She was looking at him with open interest, both eyebrows raised in apparent surprise, and her mouth slightly open. She leaned towards him, one foot lifting slightly to accommodate the motion. "What are you referring to, Merlin?" she questioned.

"…Did I forget to mention that?" His cheeks were definitively warmer than they'd been at the start of the conversation. "It doesn't matter. I just… I'm used to more respect when people find out about my skills; I mean, mostly because I haven't told anyone who wouldn't respect it, but…" he frowned. "It doesn't matter."

For a long second, there was only the sound of the horse's moving again. "How about we both try and give each other more respect, Merlin?" asked Morgana, after a moment. "You don't lie to me anymore, and I will treat you like a genius until you prove otherwise."

Merlin glanced at her; he bypassed the smile, looking directly into her eyes, which were set in a serious expression. Hesitating, he nodded. "I'd like that, Morgana." She smiled. He smiled back before continuing. "So, assuming I'm a genius who can understand everything you're about to tell me… what is it, exactly, that we intend to tell Arthur about why he didn't find us in the city?"

"Who says I'm going to tell him anything?" Merlin glanced at her, but she was keeping her eyes straight to the road ahead. "If he asks, I'm going to demand to know exactly what he was doing following him, then I'm going to insult his tracking skills, and finally I'm going to claim that we took a different route back, and that the town didn't even have what we wanted, so we simply didn't linger long enough for him to find us before striking out to another town."

"…You're going to brow beat him into admitting your right?"

Morgana nodded, smiling. "Yes, Merlin, that is exactly what I'm going to do; and with your help, he won't challenge it even if he doesn't believe it. Mostly because there's nothing he could accuse us of that wouldn't get someone hanged."

"Ah. Right. Hanged." Merlin's throat felt dry again. He touched his throat, rubbing it slightly, and pressing his palm against the pipe. After a moment he grimaced and shook his head. "Better erase the tracks."

He whispered the word, sighing with relief when they disappeared from his line of sight. Going back to check would defeat the purpose, but he cast the spell one more time with another gesture. When he turned around, Morgana was already heading through the woods, and towards their first ingredient. Shaking his head at the potential foolishness of it all, Merlin followed.

No matter what she said, Merlin doubted Morgana would be any better at listening to warnings than Arthur.

(Author's Rant: Quite a bit late, but I hope it's worth the wait. :D

This one's the longest chapter to date!

Okay, rhyming done now. You can put the weapons away.

Please? At least beat the path instead of me! [this is totally why that path was beaten.]

More seriously, though, beaten paths tend to be beaten into such well-worn things for a REASON. Whether they'll find that out for themselves… I haven't decided yet! But most likely. This is a cause and effect story, after all – denying them the consequences of their actions would be silly of me.)


	9. Light Weight

The marsh reeds were definitely the hardest to gather. The thick stalks were slippery, constantly squirting from his grip, and resisting the knife whenever he managed to get it near. Eventually, he resorted to magic. Morgana slashed it with her sword. By the end, both had a thick green bundle attached to their horses, alongside their other ingredients; the triple wart toads had been particularly hard to get, though the greatest challenge was to keep them from the carefully bottled flies.

"Do you know how we're going to get this into the kingdom?" asked Morgana, gently guiding her horse closer to Merlin's. It made a soft sound, but otherwise ignored its fellow mount.

"Medicinal ingredients; I picked them up on the way. For Gaius." He grinned at Morgana impishly. She gave him a light smile back, but moved her horse forward quickly down the road. He followed at a respectful distance, and for a few minutes nothing happened.

"I don't remember you being this respectful of Arthur," she remarked eventually. "I don't think you generally stand on formality at all."

"Well… but you're…" Sighing, he drew his horse closer to hers. "Habit."

She gave him a tight lip nod of understanding, and they fell into silence again. It was less awkward, than before; fueled by a lack of things to say, rather than any formality. Eventually, the soft patter of rain in the canopy above filled the silence, along with the soft sounds of animals moving between the branches, and they smiled slightly; Merlin, at least, was grateful for the thick leaved protection.

The fires burned cheerfully at the inn they'd picked. Merlin was stretched out on the floor, while Morgana was lounging in a chair; like Arthur, she'd chosen to keep her identity hidden for the most part. Unlike Arthur, she'd spent enough money for an inn where her womanhood wouldn't cause any bar brawls. That had been his advice. He was so proud.

"You're smiling, Merlin," she whispered.

He glanced at her; she was smiling too, her chair creaking slightly as she leaned back with a slight laugh. Her hair had drifted closer to the firelight, but was in no danger of catching fire. It was actually prettier, that way, with the flames sparkling between the bits of hair; he wondered if she knew that. Probably not.

"Merlin?" she repeated, a little louder; her voice was tinged with concern, and he glanced quickly at her face.

"Sorry; dis… distracted; you know; warm fire. Nice inn. Someone listening to my advice.."

"Ah." She gave him a tolerant smile, before glancing back at her tea; and then a real one, as she gestured to his mug on the floor. "Are you just going to nurse that all day, or are you actually going to drink any of it?"

"Oh. Sorry." He swallowed it, trying not to choke when it burned down his throat. Morgana didn't seem fooled, but she didn't comment either; he was thankful for that. He'd be more thankful if he didn't find Arthur making comments of his own, later.

The fire crackled with warmth, and a feeling similar to that of the forest settled in for a moment. Morgana's chair creaked; he sipped at his beer, finding it tasted better the more he drank. He found himself no longer moderating it, before long, eventually draining the bottle before glancing up at Morgana. "You smile more outside of Camalot," he whispered.

Morgana glanced around, but no one was close. Eventually she leaned closer to him. "I smile more when my life isn't in danger, Merlin; that doesn't seem to happen very often, anymore."

"Don't worry… I'll…" he stopped, glancing into his mug. "It's empty," he whispered.

"And it's a good thing; it seems the alcohol here is strong. Or you are very much a light weight." She left her chair, the wood making soft clattering noises on the floor as she bent down to put her arm under his. "This is very unusual. I'll have you know."

He said nothing, though there were several less than intelligible sounds as she pulled him up the stiars. They mostly made her smile. Not that she could decipher them.

"I just hope none of those deserve a good slap, Merlin." He made another noise as she took him the stairs, something between a snort and a snore. She shook her head, carefully leading him up every stair, grateful for his lightness. In due time, they reached the top stair, Merlin 's feet dragging more and more. She turned to the right, towards their assigned rooms, and paused as the door burst open below them.

At the bottom was a figure, pushing back his cloak, and looking around the room. Morgana's eyes found him before he found her, but Merlin, even drunk, found him first. He whispered the name, still disoriented, "Arthur…"

"Morgana." The prince took a step forward, and then stopped, raised a hand and let it drop. "Gwen's been kidnapped."

(Sorry for the short one – I might do another update this week to make up for it…fact is, I felt low on motivation tonight. ,

Anyway, while I might be changing things to an extent, this al comes back down to what I apparently can't stop harping on – cause and effect; while a lot of things in the story will change, some of them are still beyond the ability of my ripples to alter…

So while the dynamics might be a bit difference – someone still got greedy, and Gwen's still in trouble.

Let's see if I can't roll with that. ^^

And their punishment for going off the beaten path is still coming! Even if I did totally forget about it, there…)


	10. Plots

Arthur's words penetrated Merlin's daze, and bounced around his skull as if unable to find the way out. He stared at Arthur for a moment, opening his mouth and closing it again, like a fish trying to breathe once it's water had been taken away; he felt closer to sober, but there was a fuzzy feeling that kept getting in the way of his speech. He didn't even know what to say.

"Kidnapped!" Morgana cried, for him, releasing him to run down the stairs. He staggered a few steps, but gripped the railing in time to stop himself from falling down. He took his steps cautiously, trying to work through his haze as he moved closer to Arthur; Morgana's words were loud enough for the entire inn to hear, however, so there was little risk of missing their conversation.

"Gwen's been kidnapped!" she repeated, loudly. "Why has Gwen been kidnapped! What is being done! Why are you here! How did you even find us!"

Arthur put a restraining arm on her shoulder, and Merlin paused in his descent of the stairs; he was grateful Arthur hadn't taken notice of him yet, when Morgana slapped him full across the face. "Don't touch me, Arthur. Don't try and calm me down like I'm some hysterical lady of your courts. Tell me what's happening!"

"You are hysterical, Morgana," he seethed, fingering the spot she'd hit. "Or you wouldn't be…" he took a deep breath, and moved back a step to ward off his next blow. "I found you because you're easy to find; there's only a handful of places that sell the silk you'd need, and this is one of them; which is exactly how father will find us, unless we leave Inow/I."

"And why is it bad for your father to find us?" Morgana demanded. She was calm enough to not mention the king's name, at least; Arthur was grateful for that. He moved down a few more steps, doing his best to be quiet about it.

"Because, my father only cares about Gwen so long as Gwen has information that can put you in danger; if he finds you first, he'll call off all rescue attempts; he won't even make a move against those bandits if he doesn't think he might lose you."

"So we just…" Merlin put a hand against his forehead, rubbing at it with his fingertips. He was aware of the others turning their focus to him, and somewhat regretted drawing it; but he continued to speak regardless, hoping to get the thought out before he lost it. Or his head, as would undoubtedly happen if he went ahead with one of Arthur's plans. "So we just… need to stop the king from finding her, right? Then he'll save Gwen, and it'll all be fine…"

"No." Arthur's smile was different than any Merlin had seen on him before; thin, not just mirthless but actually dangerous. "The knights have orders; if they think they can't save her without an 'unreasonable loss for a servant of her stature,' they're to assassinate her, instead. Before she can give away any information regarding Morgana."

"So we need to rescue her." Morgana glanced between both men, giving a dangerous looking grin of her own at Merlin's slack jawed look. "Your goal is to save her while keeping me out of the king's sight; you want to use the army as a distraction, right? While you sneak in and get her out before the knights can make any decisions about her life. You can't honestly think I'm just going to hide behind some bushes for the entire duration…"

"Well…" Arthur hesitated, seeming to sense that he was on dangerous territory. "Merlin, tell her what we expect from her."

"We… expect you to… do what you want to do regardless of how much I don't want you to do it?" he offered. The world seemed to be tilting at an odd angle. Arthur was staring at him; Morgana was smiling. Both of them looked lopsided, to him.

"Are you drunk, Merlin?" Arthur demanded, taking a step towards him. The prince seemed to tilt away as he walked forward. Or perhaps it was that the ground was simply so slippery to stand on, and the world wasn't tilting but he was… falling.

He hit the ground on his side, his head smacking lightly against the floor; the sharp pain did something to pierce through the fog of his brain, but added a new layer of haze that he had to climb through as he pushed himself back up.

"You're drunk!" Arthur sounded surprised; and a little bit outraged. "You're supposed to be guarding Morgana! How could you let yourself get drunk!"

"Because I told him to, Merlin." Morgana; there were there of her, but they all looked very pretty to him, if a little fuzzy, and confusing in the way they insisted on waving about. They all reached for him, but only one set of fingers closed around his arm and tugged him up. "He's done a good job, and I was planning on working him half to death, tomorrow, so I ordered him to take… perhaps a mug more than I should have," she admitted. It was sweet of her not to admit that he'd only had one.

Arthur didn't seem to find it so sweet, but he contented himself with a quiet grunt, and moved out of the door. "We can't afford to take the main road," Arthur warned. "The knights will be looking for you all over the place; your rescue would cost us too much time to avoid…"

"So we'll take the forest track," Morgana offered, never looking up from her horse as she began to adjust her own saddle. Merlin worked on his own gelding, the haze lifting enough that his fingers were only a little bit clumsier than they should have been.

"Good; we'll start with whatever path you took to avoid me while you were doing whatever it was you were, and move on from there."

"What makes you think we were doing anything out of the ordinary?" she demanded. "The town we were visiting simply didn't have the silk we were interested in. You can ask Merlin when he's feeling… better."

The servant in question gave them both a baleful glare, no less for Morgana lessening her friendliness once Arthur was about. He made no comment, though, merely moving onto his horse and listening as Arthur began to laugh.

"There was no one in the town who'd even seen you, Morgana; your words may work on my father, but they aren't going to work on me; though you might want to change your story to having settled on a different town at the start, unless you want the soldiers coming up with that same complaint."

Arthur's smile wasn't dangerous, but it was terse, and he moved his horse quickly forward without glancing back. "Next time do a better job or don't try and deceive me at all, Morgana; if you wanted to get me some sort of present, you should have just said so."

"A… Present," she whispered, giving his back a shocked lock. "You think I would waste my time on getting you a present, you-"

"We ran out of time," Merlin interrupted, pulling his horse up alongside the Lady's. "Morgana let me get some medical supplies for Gaius while we were out. We were going to pick up the actual present tomorrow. You came too early."

It was Morgana's turn to glare, though she, like Merlin, chose to keep her mouth shut and continue moving forward. It was the best excuse they were going to get against him. "If you Iknew/I we were getting you a gift," she asked eventually, "why did you focus your search on places where we could get silk?"

"Because it was as good a place as any, and you might have wanted something for yourself as well; considering I found you two, there, it would seem I was right."

His smile was insufferable, even through the remnants of Merlin's drunken haze. He gave his sweetest smile back before asking, "Perhaps the lady Morgana thought to get you something in a nice, and light, pink?'

Arthur took his turn scowling, at last, kicking his horse to move a step forward. Though Morgana had broken into a smile herself, Merlin was starting to regret the hasty words; he should have something with more room to argue, at the very least. Morgana's smile was already fading, and Arthur had yet to let go of his scowl. Merlin was feeling it, too.

Worry. Arthur seemed to be feeling it particularly badly; moving his fingers through the rains, clutching and releasing, glancing from side to side. Morgana was better, but still bad. Fidgeting with her reigns, running her tongue across her lips. He didn't think either of them were concerned with what to say, so much as what to do; how to save Gwen, before she could be killed, before Morgana could be captured, or before the army stopped being a distraction and started to take place in an actual battle. People were going to lose their lives if they weren't careful.

"Arthur," he said, eventually. "She'll be okay; trust me."

The prince didn't respond; Morgana didn't respond. At the very least, neither was derogatory to him; and he thought he might have seen a slight easing of the prince's shoulders, a hint of relief. Not much, of course; not enough to be certain that the words had even been heard. But perhaps enough to say that Arthur did trust him.

"Merlin," the other man said, eventually. "We're going through dangerous territories inhabited by man eating baby rats, trying to protect the king's ward from rescue so that we can save a lady's maid from death by order of the king; I'd worry more about saving your own head, if I were you, and leave Gwen's fate to us."

"…Oh." Merlin went quiet, and the party didn't speak. He supposed there wasn't much to say; or at least nothing he could think of. Other than that Arthur was right. He'd be surprised if the king didn't toss the lot of them in some high tower for risking the lives of heir and ward like that. Though he suspected Arthur would manage to get out of it, as he always seemed to – assuming he was successful. Assuming he didn't first have to convince the king that he'd actually been rescuing Morgana, and had no intention of going after Gwen. Assuming that they could still escape in that case – or else somehow navigate a land crawling with soldiers, just to get to the one grouping in the entire area that might be trying to kill them instead of 'save' them.

Perhaps he did have more to worry about than he'd have liked to admit. But saying that to the others wasn't going to help matters. He needed something to distract them all; perhaps a spell of some sort, to make them think of a threat; to make them work together. It would work on Arthur, at least.

That was if he could even get anything working with his bloody hazy head. He moaned, doing his best to keep it low key, and lowered his head in defeat, not making a sound. Eventually, the fuzz began to fade, leaving a surprisingly strong headache. He suspected it was what people called a hangover; he could actually hear every twig they stepped on, cracking, from all four horses. It would have been wonderful if his head wasn't threatening to bloody explode from all the noise.

There were twigs breaking above his head, too; he could hear those not all cracking, but actually falling to the floor. He'd heard them on the way over, as well. Small animals, most likely; he smiled at the trees, but looked immediately down when the light threatened to gouge his eyes out.

There was another series of cracks, and something like a snarl; perhaps it was angry that they were in its territory; that was cute. He resisted the urge to laugh, certain it would hurt.

A larger crack resounded through the forest, making all three of them wince, though neither of the other two as bad as Merlin himself. He glanced hurriedly at the trees, and then down at the floor as a larger branch smacked into the ground; it looked as big around as her forearm, though slightly rotted through. There were gouge marks against the bark, surprisingly big.

"Arthur?" he whispered. "Morgana?"

"Yes, Merlin? Speak up." Arthur's voice was painfully loud, but he didn't close his hands over his ears. He didn't think Arthur would appreciate it.

"I think we have company, Arthur," he said, slightly louder, and titled his head towards the fallen tree branch.

The thump of something large smacking into the ground seemed to agree with him.


	11. It's That thing!

Arthur was the first to turn towards the sound, with Morgana close behind. Merlin was slower, his head pounding, and got the briefest look before the creature lunged; he didn't see much beyond fur and feathers, for a moment, and flashes of pale skin. The image clarified within a moment, though, leaving him to rear backwards with his horse making its own noises of fright beneath him; it was too well trained to run; but even Merlin knew that it wanted to. Merlin wanted to run, too.

The creature wasn't one he'd seen before; something like a horse in the back, the short cropped fur was interspaced with occasional feathers, gathering thickness as it reached the head until nothing but them was left; instead of a horse's front legs, there were thick yellow stalks, ending in three fingered claws that tore at the ground as the creature thrust itself at Arthur, it's feathered head driving a cruel beak towards him. He caught it on his sword, but his body was caught beneath the beast.

"What is that thing?" Morgana demanded; Merlin, unable to answer, merely shook his head, and pulled on his horse's reigns until it protested; it still wasn't moving, at the very least, though it felt tense beneath him.

The soft sound of rasping metal drew his eye; Morgana was drawing out her sword, shifting her own reigns. "I'm going to help him," she told him. "Stay back here; figure out if there's some spell or something that can be used to take that creature down."

"You might not even be able to hurt it with physical attacks," he warned, leaning towards her; his horse didn't move to go after hers, and she didn't turn back.

"You might want to work quickly," she recommended, moving her horse forward, towards the creature. It bellowed when she struck her sword at its side, but a shift of its bloodied wing was enough to make her horse rear, almost dislodging the Lady. It moved towards her, beak releasing Arthur's sword as it went towards her. Arthur took the opportunity to launch his sword at the creature's neck, drawing a line of blood and causing it to whirl back at him, its hind body crashing into Morgana's steed; she rolled free before it hit the ground, and Arthur struck again at the head. It drove a claw at him, bringing a shout from the prince as he struck at it again with his sword. Its claw countered, sliding up the blade, and across his arm. Arthur screamed, a talon driven deep through his shirt and across his flesh.

Merlin just watched, uncertain what he could do. The creature wrenched its claw from Arthur's arm, splashing a bit of blood in the process as Arthur screamed again. A drop of it landed on Merlin's nose, and he fought the urge to scream himself as the creature dove for Arthur again. Transferring his sword across hands, he barely managed to stop the creature from puncturing his skull with its beak, the force driving him back along his horse, already beginning to panic despite its training. Another peck of its beak pushed Arthur to the ground despite his attempt to block, and its food slamming down brought out another scream. The prince didn't seem to be moving.

"Merlin!" Morgana called, bringing the creatures attention back to herself. "Now would be an excellent time to do something, Merlin!"

"I'm trying to think! I'm not good with physical attacks!"

"Use magic?" She swung her sword at its beak; it bounced off the hard surface, nearly making her drop it; it stepped towards her, and she started to move back, step by step, resisting the urge to break into a run. Her horse, Merlin noticed, was still lying on the ground.

"It might be immune, and I might only get one shot!" he pointed out; he needed a weapon. Arthur's sword was the best bet. He still had it in a death grip, though. He might break few of the prince's fingers doing it the wrong way. Taking a deep breath to ward against his own stupidity, he darted towards the prince's still form.

The prince's hands were clamped tightly on the blade's hilt, as he had feared; he tugged, but the prince merely moved forward, and his grip game too close to moving onto the blade. He moved to the fingers, instead, aware of the sound of Morgan's blade crashing off the beast as it took another step towards her, and away from him. He managed to pry one the fingers free, glancing back in time to see her being knocked down to the ground, and roll aside to avoid the creature's peck.

Moving back to the fingers, he tried to ignore the sound of her squeals; she couldn't afford his distraction. Moving faster, he tugged another finger free, and then a third, before just griping the blade and finally wrenching it lose. Moving hurriedly about, he smacked the creature in its equine rear, grateful when it's head swung towards him. From what he could see, Morgana was still moving, although also on the ground.

Whispering a hurried word as the creature began to turn around towards him, Merlin threw the sword, gesturing his hand to send it flying forward as an arrow. The blade crunched through the creature's skull; it shuddered and dropped, in a spurt of blood; dead, he imagined. He didn't want to check. He might have to. The only way to explain any of it, after all, was to get Arthur back his sword.


	12. Closer

Morgana tightened the bindings around Arthur's arms, enough to make him fidget. She spared his face a glance, but made no effort to ease up, any more than eh seemed ready to stop eying Merlin.

"So Morgana was the one who actually dispatched it?" he demanded. "Through the head?"

"You got a few hits in yourself, if I remember correctly," Morgana murmured. She tied off the binding, holding his arm tight to stop him from pulling away. He focused his attention to her with a scowl, but she merely smiled at him, and patted his cheek. "Too bad about that unfortunate fall you took, Arthur."

He glanced at Merlin. "You're supposed to be my servant, you know; take my side. Any of this ringing a bell?'

"In front of the Lady Morgana?" Merlin demanded, raising his hands defensively. "She'd think you couldn't… you know… control your servants, or something?"

"Merlin!"

The warlock glanced at Morgana, who was wiping a few scratches on Arthur's face. "He did get in some… very good hits. And it was a… very strong, horse bird creature." He tapped his foot against it, dancing back a step when it smacked into the ground.

"I suppose you just hid, then?" demanded Arthur, making a pained hiss when Morgana jammed handkerchief against his face "And what is your problem?"

"Sorry," she murmured, pocketing the square of cloth. "Stubborn bit of blood. Do you need a trophy, or shall we go?"

Arthur gave a low growl in the back of his throat, they were bruised, but nothing was broken. "Riding them might make things worse," he admitted. "We'll have to walk, for a while."

"And you'll be useless for a week," she muttered, moving down the woods. "This is the way to Gwen, right?"

Arthur nodded, moving up behind her; Merlin fell in line behind the two, listening for any more creatures in the woods; he heard nothing; most likely nothing was about at all, but he kept his eyes peeled anyway, surveying the woods for any out of place twig or random squirrel.

"You're going to hurt your eyes doing that," offered Morgana, falling back herself after a while. Arthur shot her a surprised look, but continued his forward movement; he was hurt worse than the horses, but showed no sign of stopping.

"I'm worried about Arthur," he whispered out loud. "I think he's pushing himself too ahrd…"

"I'm worried about you; you spend too much time trying to take care of everyone. You're going to burn yourself out."

"Like I have a choice." His foot caught on a piece of underbrush, threatening to take him down; he stumbled a few steps, kicking viciously to get free, and stumbling a few steps forward, and righting himself with help from Morgana's supporting hand.

"You could make Arthur go a bit slower," she pointed out; he noted that she was biting her lip as she said it, however, apparently as nervous about the idea as him.

"Gwen will be fine," he told her, keeping his voice quiet, but assuring as possible. "Just look at Arthur move."

Morgana gave him a grateful smile, but didn't seem convinced. He could see the worry etched into her eyes, but – not knowing what to do about it – let it stand.

They slept in silence, when they eventually camped, the light already long gone. The night passed silently, and the night after that. Morgana bound up Arthur's arm every morning, and they made better progress once the horses were done, always waking up early and going to bed only when the light was too treaturous to continue.

The days dragged on, further, with an almost unbroken silence. Occasionally Morgana would talk with Merlin, or Merlin would try and have a word with Arthur, but he rarely responded. He seemed to be moving like an arrow, biting his knuckles at night. The only time he spoke was to curse his wound.

They pressed on, with Arthur becoming more and more intent; about a week and a half in, Merlin gave his master a slight tap on the back of the head.

"You're going to kill yourself."

"like you can speak," demanded Arthur, rolling his eyes in annoyance. "I should have your hand chopped for that, you know."

"Only if you can muster the energy to order it." Merlin's retort was angry, and brought at least a modicum of Arthur's attention; a part of him was always focused on where they were going. "You're of no used to anyone if you get yourself killed."

"I'm of no use to anyone," he countered, barreling forward; he clutched his arm as he went, and Merlin followed. "There's nothing wrong with getting injured; you were trying to-"

"Be a hero. Who needed to be protected anyway." He lifted the arm; the bandage on it was red, though the blood was mostly dried. "There was a shortcut, Merlin; a dangerous one, but I would have driven Morgan through it anyways, to save… to save a whole lot of time on our journey; even though we'd have had to leave the horses. But I got wounded, like an idiot, and the blood would have brought every predator in a mile to us. So we're riding; for who the hell knows how long. And we'll probably arrive too late to be any use."

"I wouldn't say that," said Merlin, kicking his horse to move it faster forward. Arthur gave him a sharp look, and hurried to keep up, Morgan's own encouragements audible from behind.

"What makes you think that?" Arthur demanded.

Merlin just smiled, pointing ahead to where the trees broke free, for hovels and tents and wooden buildings to come up, sprawling in front of them. "I think we're already here."

(This was one of those days where it was hard to write. , Hope it's acceptable.)


	13. Familiar

Merlin crouched down in front of Arthur, Morgana was at his side, her skirt exchanged for tight fitting but drab brown pants, which nevertheless drew Merlin's eyes. ; the prince poked at the ground with his good arm and a stick, drawing shaky lines in the dirt to detail the compound as they saw it. "The dungeons, from what my father knows, are probably around here." He jabbed his stick towards the back of the compound, leaving a small gouge in the dirt.

"And the guards?" demanded Morgana. There was a hard edge to her voice as she spoke; her eyes were green slates. The emotion in them had disappeared slightly after she'd seen the compound. "The soldiers your father sent?"

Arthur scowled, looking miserable from what Merlin could tell; his eyes were downcast. Everyone's tension felt high, and just being in their presence made the hair on the back of Merlin's neck stick up.

Arthur's stick broke in half with an unexpected snap, bringing everyone's attention to him as he gripped both pieces tightly against each other. "I don't know," he admitted. "I left too quickly to find out much. But they can't be more than a day behind us; we have to hurry."

Morgana nodded, standing. She shook the dust from her clothes, ignoring the surprised glances Merlin and Arthur shot her. "We have as much of a plan as we're going to get then, correct? Or are you just planning on staring at the dirt drawing until armed men leap from the ground and tell you where they're hiding?"

"I'm trying to find a plan that would get us in and out alive," he retorted, moving smoothly to his feet besides her. Both of them angled towards the fortifications, however, leaving only Merlin on the ground.

He stood, less smoothly, digging his fingers into the dirt and pushing himself all the way up. His movements left small streaks in the image, obscuring the gouge, but pushing him towards them a little as he hurried to catch up. "If we die horridly from this, I'm going to haunt your ghost, you know."

"Relax, Merlin. You'll die long before either of us." There was a tense undertone to his voice, slurring the words together a little as they crept towards one of the entrances, little more than a square hole cut into the rough rock. Noise emanated almost constantly from it as they moved forward, growing louder; cheers and jeers, and occasional crashes. There was a wet sound he'd grown familiar with, flesh smashing into flesh, and a fainter sound of fighting. He heard something akin to swords, and a screech.

"Nice place they've got here," Merlin whispered. The other two glanced at him, but even Arthur kept his mouth shut. They had an eerily similar sensation about them, perhaps from being raised for so long in the same household; the tight restraint of a drawn bow waiting to be released, muscles tense for the moment it would spring free. Even the movement of Morgan's hair seemed constrained, clinging to her body as if afraid to stray.

They moved in sync, heads crouched down and bodies gracefully flowing over the distance to the doorway, each moving to one side of the door without conference. "Merlin's going to stand out in there like a sore thought," whispered Arthur. "I think he should stay back with the horses."

"No." Arthur gave the Lady a look of surprise, opening his mouth to argue. Raising an eyebrow, she quieted him as quickly as she ever had Merlin, much to the watching Warlock's amusement. "We're all going in. We're all going to rescue Guinevere. And we're all going to make it out alive; so if I even hear you two joking about anything to the contrary…"

"You'll kill us yourselves?" Arthur demanded. His lips pulled back into a teasing smile, lost to the interior darkness as he moved inside.

Morgana closed her eyes, and followed, her graceful movements containing a knifelike edge. "I was just planning to cut you, but if you want to get all dangerous on me…"

"I must be as insane as you are," Merlin whispered, heading after them. Shaking his head from side to side made him feel no better about the proposition, but he walked into the darkness anyway, momentarily blind except for the faint shapes of Merlin and Morgana, and the husky smell of men. The sound hit him a moment later, the sound of dozens of voices, squealing over something. Their bodies resolved slowly, the flickering torchlight from the walls giving the place definition as his eyes adjusted. He could see them packed up ahead, strongly muscled men, some bald and others with wild hair that stretched half down their back, or else were shaved except for a single streak that flopped all the way to their bottom.

"You should have closed your eyes ahead of time, to let them adjust," recommended Morgana, a little late. Merlin barely heard the words, captivated by the gruesome display of human bodies before him, a collection of bared flesh, random piercings, and colorful images tattooed upon biceps and even skulls, the entire crowd leaning forward to watch something he couldn't even see. He heard the squeal of something from where he was, though, and a sickening crunch, followed by a human scream. No amount of closing his eyes had a hope of blocking that out.

"I want to see what's going on," whispered Arthur, beginning to move forward. Morgana's hand gripped Arthur's arm when he started after his sire, and she raised her voice a little to be heard over the crowds.

"Their entertainment isn't why we're here, Arthur; we have something to accomplish, in case you've forgotten?"

He threw her back a sour look; her face looked firm for a moment, and then crumbled, with her turning her face away so that he couldn't see the sudden glimmer of tears, coupled with fear and worry etched deeply into her face. Merlin watched Arthur heading towards the cage from the corner of his eye, but devoted the majority of his focus to the woman still clutching at his arm.

"Do you really think that we're all going to die?" she demanded, her voice pitched so that only Merlin could hear it. She moved forward a few steps, away from the door, and – he belatedly noticed – the two burly men standing to either side of it. "I mean, we're in a bandit's camp, in the wide open, and you… the way you use magic, I can't decide whether you have been caught three times over, or dead from hesitating! And Arthur… first he sulks at every delay, and then goes to figure out what's entertaining a bunch of bandits while we should be making creative use to the chaos, in order to-"

Merlin placed a finger against his Lady's lips, hastily snatching it back when her eyes widened. He did his best to give her a reassuring smile, gluing his hand to side in the process. "It'll be fine; we'll find Guinevere; she's my friend, too."

Morgana nodded, taking a shuddering breath and wiping a tear across her face. When she was finished, she looked composed. Her voice shook when she spoke, but with an undercurrent of anger that washed over the fear and the stress evident in her voice. "They took her to get to me, Merlin; I don't want to just get her back; I want them to pay for that. I want to tear them apart for that. Does that make me a bad person, Merlin?" she demanded.

Merlin studied her for a moment, the fierce expression on her face, the arched eyebrow demanding his response. He shrugged, hiding his discomfort. "You still feel rescuing Guinevere comes first, don't you?" he asked.

The anger on her face shifted to surprise. "Of course I do. She's the whole reason we came here."

"Then you're not a bad person." He gave her a rakish grin, wiping it from his face before turning to look back at A

She studied him for a moment, turning away without saying anything when Arthur waded his way into the crowd towards them. "Come on, this way, and hurry," he whispered, grabbing Merlin's arm. Morgana followed, slipping her grip down to the warlock's hand.

"What's going on?" she demanded. "What are they doing?"

"Fighting," he whispered, quickly. "The squeals are from wildren – they're… giant baby rats. That eat human flesh." He ignored Merlin's disgusted look, continuing to press forward, circulating around the corner of the tight packed crowd and angling towards a corridor. "None of that is what matters, though," he whispered. "It's who was fighting that caught my eye."

"Who was fighting," Merlin demanded, picking up the pace until they were moving in a tightly bound group. Arthur didn't respond, just walking faster. There was a sound from another set of footsteps up ahead of them, two muscled men, with shaven heads, pale white skulls from the back. They didn't stand out from anyone except for the figure between them, slender and almost familiar, walking almost jauntily between them, despite what looked like a limp. Arthur picked up the pace, angling to cut in front of them on their way to a door.

"Wait for it," he whispered out loud. Morgana didn't question it, though she looked as if she wanted to; for merlin, the wild hair was already beginning to stir feelings of familiarity as they angled in front of the man and his companions, catching a glimpse of his face as they passed.

Arthur smiled triumphantly, though they didn't pause. "Lancelot."


	14. Missing

Merlin leaned against the wall, mind racing and heart beating heavily, aware of the painfully rough stone digging into his back, but not reacting to it. "Lancelot's here," he said out loud, glancing at Arthur to his right.

The young prince nodded, but didn't speak; the guards hadn't moved from their spot besides Lancelot's door; and it was less than likely that the would-be knight was a guest of honor, as both of them knew.

"Is this the one who had a crush on Guinevere?"Morgana demanded, earning her an annoyed look from Arthur; like most of his looks, it seemed to slide off her skin. Merlin had grown used to her enough to see the flinch in her eyes, though, and the thoughts whirring afterwards; Merlin was sure Arthur saw it as well, but the prince turned his attention back to the door. There was something going on with their lord and leader; Morgana knew it was; and Merlin had a fairly good inkling.

"It'll have to be a quick strike," the prince commented, his fingers clutching the corner as he glanced about it; the rock was hewn, and far from smooth, but if Arthur felt any pain from his grip he didn't let it stop him from squeezing. "You two stay back; I'll try and get through without alerting anyone, but be prepared for a chase. Await for my signal."

"What's the signal?" Merlin demanded; Morgana leaned in to listen as well, but Arthur never bothered to turn around.

"Me running real fast. Hold on." Moving about the corner before the other two could protest, he slipped back into a steady and confident gait. No one who didn't know him would be able to see the slight tenseness interfering with his walk.

"He's going to get himself killed," Merlin lamented. "Doesn't even think about all the work we do to keep him alive…"

Morgana remained silent; her brow was furrowed in thought as she watcher Arthur speak to the first guard. "He's in love with her, isn't he?"

"I was thinking Lancelot, actually…"

"Merlin!" she hissed sliding up behind him.

"Sorry. I make bad jokes when I'm stressed."

Her head moved above his shoulder, her body pushed almost uncomfortably close behind him, until he had to resist the urge to squirm, her elbow jammed against the lower half of his back, all that separated her groin from his bottom. It hurt; but felt surprisingly pleasant, making him blush. "Consider yourself punished," she informed him. "And I didn't say the joke was bad."

There didn't seem to be a proper response to that, so he didn't make one; in a silence that was becoming distressingly common, they looked on as Arthur leaned on, putting one hand on the guard's back crouching down as the other guard moved towards them. Arthur's fist moved quickly, punching his guard in the chin to knock him out, and then shoving the body at the remaining man, knocking him out similarly with another fist, before shaking his hand out to get rid of the sting.

"Well, that was…"

"Inventive," finished Morgana, slipping out from behind him and walking towards the door. Merlin rushed after, biting his tongue against any protests about Arthur's orders.

Arthur was in a less forgiving mood. "I told you two to wait." His glare was singularly on Merlin, as if he should have somehow stopped it himself.

"Because we're so less conspicuous hanging out over there while the unconscious guards are over here?" demanded Morgana. Walking past him, with a defiant look on her face, she grabbed Merlin's arm and pulled him after, thankfully sparing him Arthur's anger for a moment.

The man inside was surprisingly disheveled up close; the dirty hair, however, was not nearly enough to hide the familiarity of the equally disheveled face, who's owner was too busy staring at them to hide if it tried. "Merlin?" he demanded. A sword was in his right hand; merlin gestured at it with a word, dropping it to the floor beside the man's feet.

"She knows. Arthur doesn't. Hush!" he tossed up a hand, distantly aware of Morgana's surprised expression as Arthur walked in afterwards.

"Lancelot." There was warmth in his voice, but an edge too, similar to the one he'd heard from Morgana; possibly it came from being raised in the same household; he could believe that they'd inherited it from Uther, for certain. "How long have you been here?" he demanded.

"Long enough to know that Guinevere is in trouble." He bent down to pick up his sword, forestalling any complaint by Arthur as he made a show of wiping it with his shirt, dirty as that cloth was. "And long enough to have done something about it, if you're wondering. Did you bring any soldiers?"

He met Arthur's eye with a defiant look, and it was the prince that looked away first; Lancelot's face softened with that, and he turned his gaze to include all three of them. "She's fine; barely. Hengist got tired of waiting." He paused there, glancing at Arthur before continuing. "He set up a game; someone would champion her. If that person died, she'd die with him. I figured it would tide us over until you arrived; without soldiers, of course." His smile was bitter, but his stance was relaxed, his legs close together. "I suspect you have a plan?"

"And I suspect you do?" demanded Arthur; despite the continued edge in his voice, he didn't seem mad to Arthur. He sounded desperate; and Lancelot seemed to notice it when he reluctantly shook his head.

"Not a one," he admitted. "I was barely free to come and go when I was just a fighter. As a champion, I've been moved to new quarters, and kept away from my… charge… I don't even know where they're keeping her."

"So we make one of the guards tell us," declared Morgana, walking out. She bent down to grab one, pulling at the leg while the boys watched. Merlin was the first to move, cursing beneath his breath and grabbing the other towards the room.

"You knocked out two guards and left them outside?"

"I was in a hurry." 

"Then how about you actually help?" interrupted Morgana, giving a final heave. "There only _used_ to be two guards out there. Anyone up to running?"

"Do we have a choice?" demanded Arthur, bending down to the man; stripping the heaviest armor off of him, he pushed the other two over, grabbing a leg, as the first sounds began to come down the corridors.

"We always have a choice, my prince." Lancelot grabbed the other lower limb. "I just find myself not liking any of the choices."

"Talk later," Merlin huffed, grabbing the right arm. Besides him, Morgana did the same, the four of them lifting him entirely and making their way down the hall quickly, stretching the poor man out; thankfully, they were less concerned for his comfort than their safety.

"If he leads to trouble, we're using him as a meat shield," Morgana warned. "We can get 'help' from some other guard."

The others nodded agreement, Merlin faster than the rest; it was going to be a hard enough run already, with the guards on their tails. If he so much as saw a sword, he'd throw the guard to their feet. The trick would be convincing Arthur to do the same, when the time came.


	15. Not So Shiny Armor

The patter of feet filled the hallways, along with shouts. And clanks of armor; heavy armor, Merlin supposed, as none of the party had been killed yet; gripping the limp right arm of their hostage, Merlin wondered how long they would manage to stay at the front of the guards.

"We're going to have to drop him," admitted Lancelot. "There won't be any avoiding them, otherwise."

"No." Arthur's voice brooked no argument, but his eyes flinched back when Morgana looked at him. "If the entire place is like this, we won't be able to find anyone else; we need someone to tell us where Guinevere is."

"And Guinevere needs you alive when you get to her." That came from Lancelot again, but Merlin noted resigned sigh about his words. He had noticed Arthur's feelings as well, Merlin suspected; but there was no time to question him, with the guards running down the flagstone hallways, and the pale arm of the guard trying to slip from his sweaty hands.

"If I drop him anyway, will you just blame me and stop arguing?" he demanded, trying to shift his hands about for a better grip; the arm was going to slip from his grip before long. But Arthur's glare implied it shouldn't; Lancelot was too busy staring at the ground to even protest. Only Morgana favored him with a slight smile, before turning her glare back to Arthur.

"They put one sword? I'm tossing him; Merlin's tossing him. And I'm fairly sure Lancelot's tossing him, which is probably the only one who really matters; so if you want to hold onto him…" She let the words trail off, as Arthur's expression darkened; his pace picked up a little, pushing Merlin and Morgana down the hallway.

Whatever else he might have said was cut off when the man between them groaned, apparently starting to wake.

"Over there." Whispered Lancelot, tilting his head to a door; a nondescript brown set into the gray stone wall, far enough from the flickering torch lights that Merlin almost missed seeing it even when Lancelot pointed it out; with luck, whoever chased him would miss it entirely.

Angling towards it, he watched the man groan again with a quiet curse, releasing one hand to reach behind and twist the knob. He kicked out with his foot, resuming his grip quickly as his hand began to slip; back wheeling, he got through the door as the man began to groan again, a rattling noise. Thankful that the man wasn't too heavy, he flung himself back into the room, Lancelot grabbing the door and pulling it shut as footsteps pounded outside. Their charge slid from weary fingertips to hit the ground with a high pitched squeal, and another groan as his head smacked into the floor, helm ringing on the floor.

"Arthur?" he whispered.

Merlin shot Morgana a surprised glance. She shrugged back, but didn't step closer to the figure. Outside, the footsteps quieted for long enough for Arthur to dart out and grab a torch, lifting it wearily in front of him as the figure took off its cap; long hair tumbled from it, falling over the still indistinct figures.

Creeping closer, Arthur asked, "How do you know how I am?"

"My head," the figure whispered, rubbing it. Her fingers reached down, unstrapping the leather about him; it sprung from his body as if propelled, a new shape emerging from beneath it. "What happened?" the woman asked; her voice seemed to take its time sinking into Arthur's consciousness, and he gawked for a moment at the woman in front of him.

"Guinevere?" he demanded, choking on the words. Lancelot crowded in behind him for a better look, Merlin and Morgana only a step behind.

"You… threw someone at me?" she asked, furrowing her brow. "Why did you throw someone at me?"

"I didn't…" he trailed off, looking behind him at the unhelping mass of friends, who shrugged their shoulders in equal confusion.

"Why were you in a guard's uniform?" demanded Merlin, aware of the resuming footsteps outside of their door; they were quieter, at least, a sign that the guards were beginning to give in.

"I smashed one with a candlestick and snuck out of my room," she told him, plucking at her clothing; the light brown cloth was ragged at the ends, but looked more comfortable than the armor, to Merlin's eyes, then the tight leather breastplate she'd been wearing while pretending she was a man. "What are you all doing here?" she asked, looking up at last, to Morgana. "You're the one he wants."

"Which is why we're going to get you out before anyone realizes he can't have her," promised Arthur, bending down to grip her shoulder; lightly, Merlin noticed, far more lightly than he might have with anyone else. Lancelot gripped her other arm almost gingerly, but his eyes kept darting to Arthur's voice, noting no doubt the worry in the young prince's eyes.

Morgana coughed, polite but loud, drawing attention to herself. "If you two are done swooning over your mistakes, we still have an army to navigate, I king to punch, and did I hear someone mention a race of baby rats?"

"I'd rather not face those," Guenivere admitted; her voice was weak, but getting stronger with the two boys helping her to her feet.

Morgana gave a quick nod, twisting about with a momentary but meaningful glance at Merlin – she was going to need him. What she said out loud, however, was different: "Get your swords ready, boys; we're going to need them."

(So… did you see this coming? 'Cause I didn't!

This is what happens when I don't have Mousey about to listen to me babble – I get surprised. :P Originally. I expected them to get the answer from the guard – how, I don't know, or why he WOULD know – charge down to Guenevere's room (somehow avoiding getting themselves caught?) and end it… probably about this way.

But the more I thought about it, the more I wondered at the chances of Guinevere sneaking her own dang way out, and nearly rescuing herself – AND Lancelot – before the boys ever did anything.

I guess I liked the odds. :P I might have to actually write how she did it at some point. :D

I apologize for the short update, though – I know a lot of you were looking forward to this one, and I hope I didn't disappoint too badly. ^^; The next one should be fairly epic – I might start it midweek, but no guarantees on whether you'll see it before the normal Sunday.)


	16. A Bend in the Road

They left the room quietly, Lancelot and Arthur heading forward first, swords in hand. They glanced down both hallways, making a regular show of themselves for Guinevere, who was giving both worried glances. Morgana, meanwhile, gestured Merlin to walk towards her.

"You have a plan?" he asked in a whisper; trusting her, he turned his own glance at the door, and almost missed the small shake of her head.

"Just an idea," she admitted. "Don't tell those two idiots." She gave a small nod to the featured pair, though it wasn't required/

"They're trying their best," Merlin pointed out, defensively; she nodded, absentmindedly.

"Arthur's working without all the information he needs, to plot properly though," she remarked. IT wasn' t an accusing tone, but he flinched back form it anyhow. "And even I don't know precisely what we're capable of, so there's no way Lancelot can plan for it properly – or ask for our help, up there with Arthur."

It was Merlin's turn to nod, reluctantly. "There's been worst situations than this before…"

"Worse than being trapped in a brigand king's mansion without any way to coordinate our abilities?" she asked, arching a black brow.

His mouth twisted unhappily. "We'll figure it out anyway."

"Of course," she sighed, leaning against the wall. Her face gave no clue as to what she was thinking – whether it was about the unpleasant fates that could await them, or how uncomfortable the wall behind her was; she could have been wondering why stone was so cold.

"The creatures," she remarked. "The wildren; do you know how to call creatures like that?"

"Not particularly."

She nodded, showing neither disappointment nor surprise; instead, she tucked a strand of black hair behind her ears, and sank lightly down the wall and into her thoughts; her brow showed the faint signs of beginning to crease, when Lancelot came back inside.

He turned towards Guinevere first, not Morgana – who used the extra time to straighten herself – but both her and Merlin listened to him declare "The road is clear; come on. We're going to try and find a way to one of the secondary entrances – with the soldiers so close, Arthur says we won't have to run far."

Guinevere nodded; it was an almost fragile motion, followed through by lightly gripping her protector's hand. She gave a tremulous smile as she was led outside, shifting her disheveled hand to keep it out of her face; Merlin thought she looked quite pretty.

Behind him, Morgana let out an annoyed and undignified sigh. "Arthur should have collected her himself; I'll have to have a serious talk with him about what he's planning to do with my maid, if he can't even offer her personal comfort."

She strode forward before Merlin could twist about, grabbing the Warlock's arm and taking him out the door; he walked quickly to keep up with her brisk pace, heading straight past the surprised Arthur. In the moment he took to catch up, she said. "We need distractions; cave ins; wildren; if you think it will keep these brigands off of us, do it – we'll question the wisdom of it later."

Merlin gave a surprised nod, glancing behind him. Arthur was striding forward with an annoyed expression, no doubt to reprimand them on the foolishness of walking ahead; the slight widening of his eyes was the only clue when something in his intent changed. His stride lengthened, feet pushing off the ground in a dull thud as he picked up the pace of his walk, heading into a run. He drew his sword between the steps, the long length of steel coming up from the scabbard with a rasp, flying past Merlin's head so quickly the warlock lacked time to flinch, and catching a descending blade.

That close, Merlin noted the look of pain cross the prince's face, disappearing under a mask of determination as he twisted past Merlin and Morgana, driving the other man's sword away, and striking. A drop of blood smacked against his face as he disarmed the mind, slashing a sword across the guard's chest and gesturing them to rush forward; they did so, Lancelot bringing up the rear with Guinevere. Regardless of speed, though, Merlin could see the blood seeping through Arthur's arm, where the wound had reopened.

"He won't be able to last for much longer," he told Morgana, between gasped breaths and racing steps. "If we don't find a way out of here…"

"I know," she replied, tersely. Her eyes moved back and forth, perhaps looking for options. "He won't live long enough for any distraction to be useful," she admitted, reluctantly, glancing behind her; Guinevere was keeping up well, just a few paces behind them. Keeping her voice low, the witch continued speaking, voice low – and with just a hint of tremor.

"I wanted to bring the mountain down around their heads, Merlin; I wanted you to unleash Wildren in the halls, and seal the exits, and tear down the mountains. I…" she paused, but Merlin didn't say anything; didn't blink, even, for the stiffness that had spread through his entire form. "They don't teach you to be nice, in Uther's court," she reminded him. "As a guest in your king's realm; protected only by the king's whim. I am not nice; you should understand that, before you teach me anything Merlin." She said the last in a bare whisper, searching his face for an expression.

Slowly, he relaxed his facial muscles, looking away; he felt her tense in return, but he spoke his words carefully, and slowly. "I don't believe that; and neither do you. Being defensive of your friend is a good thing."

She laughed; it was bitter, drawing Guinevere's instant attention; and she waited until the maid was again focused on Lancelot, and the tunnel ahead, before continuing. "You're sweet, Merlin; and if we didn't need to get out of here, I'd find a way to prove you wrong. How good are you with stone?"

The sudden shift of topic made Merlin blink; and then frown, as he tried to talk; above him, he was vaguely aware of another scream, as Arthur tore through another guard without regard for the injury he was causing himself. "You mean like bringing to life?"

"No. But useful; I expect I'll want to learn it when there's time." She glanced at the wall to their right, as they curved around a bend, reaching past him to touch the stone lightly, and then drawing back; he walked carefully during the process to avoid pressing her too hard. "I meant can you shatter it?"

"Shatter it?" There was a clang of steel on stone above; another man disarmed.

"We're in a cave, Merlin; there are bound to be places where they tunneled a bit too closer to the outer surface; perhaps about the bends. If you can make an opening…"

"Then we can get out," he finished for her, nodding.

She nodded affirmatively, giving him a grim smile before glancing ahead; her eyes were cold, but Merlin could see the worry dancing beneath their surface as she studied Arthur's back, and the blood trail he was leaving in his wake. "These are just the stragglers, Merlin; the slowest of the people who were chasing us – If we catch up with the main force before we find a way out, we're doomed; and if we slow down, we run the risk of being caught between two forces."

Merlin's breath caught; he forced his lungs to release, and inhail, turning his attention to the door. Arthur screamed in the distance; Morgana rushed up from behind him, weapon drawn; Lancelot started to move, then paused, and then pulled back, deliberately slowing down and holding Guinevere with him as Merlin's fingers quickly moved across the stone. He didn't know what he was looking for, or what spell to use, precisely; but he hadn't always used spells, back before he even knew he could find real spell books in his life.

He let the power leech out of his fingers, trying to recall when he'd pulled entire trees down; his eyes glowed slightly, hopefully not so that anyone could see; he rounded a bend, vaguely aware of fighting above, and drove his hands further against the rough rock until it hurt.

He felt it, at the utmost curve of the bend; a thinness. He drove his power through the rock; nothing happened. Lancelot and Guinevere were coming closer; above, there was still fighting – but Arthur was on the ground, clutching his arm. It was Morgana who was fighting, defensively, overmatched by powerful blows that battered at her without any recognizable skill. The sword slipped from her fingers, as Merlin watched, his mission temporarily forgotten; the sword moved to strike her through the heart; and Merlin screamed.

The stone cracked, a piece ricocheting to strike the man in the helm. He crumpled, and Morgana glanced at him with a smile; as if she'd known it would happen. An amusing and dangerous thought, as far as he was concerned.

"Come along," she said, bending down to grab Arthur. "You missed an opening at the turn."

"An opening?" Arthur was demanding, as Lancelot and Guinevere blinked at the gaping hole. Morgana shoved the prince through it first, impatiently, and nodding sharply when he stumbled out into open air past.

"Caves,' she said, matter of factly. "It's only to be expected they would be worn through in some places; not that anyone bothers to look for what's right in front of their eyes. Come along," she gestured.

Guinevere gave a start, and headed through. Lancelot gave Merlin a knowing smile and followed; that left Merlin who bent down besides Morgana.

"I told you I wasn't very nice," she whispered. "I knew you would have everything under control."

"You hoped," he corrected. "And you're lying again. You reacted without thought."

"I never react without thought," she whispered, teasingly, as they straightened; the warm air moved past their heads, and Merlin took a deep scent of the surrounding flowers; before him stretched the world.

And standing firmly on it, decked in jewelry and armed with a leg of lamb, was the brigand king.


	17. The Best Laid Plans Sometimes Suck

The "king" in front of them laughed. It was a rough sound, so different from anything Uther would have made that for a moment Merlin just stared. But as the man lifted the leg of lamb to his lips, biting off a chunk that left juice dribbling down his chin, his mind began to work again.

In a moment or two, that "king" would raise his hand, and the men arrayed behind him would lift their weapons; after that, the group would be taken – without any proper resistance, considering Arthur's arm, though he didn't doubt that the prince and Lancelot both would try; and that gave him two options.

The first option was to do nothing. The men would capture them, they would be dragged back inside and probably ransomed to the army for half of Camelot's treasury. Merlin and Guinevere would probably be killed as extra baggage, of course, but the king would hardly notice.

The second option was to use magic; it was unlikely to turn the fight – and they were unlikely to get far. Perhaps it would be enough to stall, at least until the army arrived, but most likely Merlin would be killed either way. Quite possibly, if it came down to fighting, Guinevere would be killed either way. And no matter what, Morgana and Arthur would probably survive. So really, he supposed there was nothing to lose by revealing himself to be a warlock in the last few minutes, and hoping that Arthur didn't gut him and save their enemies the trouble.

He glanced sideways at Morgana, wondering how much of his plan he could convey in a look. She was already moving forward, toward Arthur. Biting his lip, he braced himself for when the fight would start, feeling his eyes glow as he stared to gather power. He thought that he was prepared for anything.

He was not prepared for Morgana kicking Arthur in the legs, shoving him to the ground in front of the brigand king, and then darting back around to grab Merlin's arm and pull his unresisting self across the short cut grasses at top speeds.

"What are you doing!" he hissed, glancing quickly behind him. The force was a disordered mess, but several of the men were about Arthur; Lancelot gave his weapon up with no resistance, and Guinevere just stood shell shocked. "You gave them Arthur!"

"So we'll get him back," Morgana said; she sounded confident, but he felt the slight tremble in her grip as she dragged them towards a copse of trees. "Saving him is what you do, Merlin; that's what you told me isn't it? You can't save him if you're dead. Maybe this time, but not next time, and not the time after that."

He glanced behind him again. The soldiers were taking the remaining three back to the trio; the king seemed to be gathering several around him, probably to send after him and Morgana. But if they could get lost in the trees, with the soldiers so close, he wouldn't risk much. Not with the crown prince already his. "My life could have-"

"A good servant doesn't dismiss himself; he waits to be dismissed!" Her hand tightened painfully about him, but he didn't protest. She dragged him beneath tree branches, the twigs crunching loudly beneath their feet, and then into thicker trees further back. "You will save all of us by living – or did you forget who you're meant to be teaching!" something wet struck him; for a moment he thought it was raining above. But the water was smacking into him from in front. Morgana's tears.

"Morgana…"

"Shut up, Merlin!" she ducked beneath a tree branch, forcing Merlin to do the same. "Do you have any idea how scary it was! Suddenly being able to use magic, lighting things on fire, and nobody around who knew how it felt! Nobody who could tell me what was happening, nobody who could tell me that it was okay –everybody telling me to be quiet, instead, in case the king chops my head off, and throws me to the woods? The whole world falling apart – and you. YOU Merlin, are the only person keeping it together right now, so you will shut up, and not die, and you will bloody well like it, before I forget what a Lady I am!"

He nodded; she didn't see it, but didn't comment for a long moment. She seemed instead to almost be running in circles, cursing under her breath; she had a goal in mind, but he didn't know what it was, until they came across the horses.

"Morgana – we are not running away."

She glared at him; her eyes were puffy and red, but her lips were compressed to a thin line of determination. "We are not running away, Merlin; we are getting supplies. Or did you forget countless hours of gathering ingredients?"

"For a sleeping drought! We could accomplish the same thing by lecturing them for three hours!"

"We don't have three hours," she reminded him, going to one of the saddlebags. "We have about ten minutes; so let's improvise. When that army arrives, I want every place in that palace asleep. And you, Merlin, are going to help me do it."

Merlin stared at her; she was insane. Sighing, he moved towards the bag regardless; he'd regret it later. If they lived that long.

(Actually, there was a third option: Blow the king up, and bluff your way out of it. But let's face it, there's no way in hell Merlin was gonna think THAT one up.

Anyway, the big rescue should take place up on weds, with the official wrap up for this arc occurring on Sunday. No guarantees on size for either of them, but it should hopefully be exciting. :) )


	18. Always a Choice

"This is never going to work," declared Merlin, for the hundredth time that day; his throat was dry from saying it so often. Again, however, Morgana ignored him in favor of powdering the ingredients. There was not nearly enough time to make large batches like they'd planned, she'd explained - they had to improvise, she had claimed.

"It'll never work!" he repeated, reaching out to grab her hand. She slapped it away absentmindedly.

"Give it a rest, Merlin; it'll work. We just have to improvise a little – it's written clearly in the book." She gestured vaguely to the bound words, which aid on the ground some distance away, the breeze having long since turned it from Morgana's intended page.

"There was a two line reference to the fact that it was possible for a witch to host a spell within her body! You don't know what you're-"

"Finish that line and I'll gut you like a fish," she warned. She lifted up the small bowl she'd been using as a makeshift mortar, carefully tipping the concoction into a battered tin cup of hot water. "I'm hoping this will work better if I tell myself it will."

"That is…" He zipped his lips shut when she looked at him, trying not to scream; forget saving everyone – Arthur would kill Merlin himself if he ever happened to find out what his manservant had done to the Lady Morgana. Or what he'd allowed the Lady to do to herself, if anyone ever believed that.

"Turning yourself into a host might be incredibly dangerous," he warned. Her face didn't shift – if anything, the plea was only making her more determined to drink the concoction. "You should at least let me do it."

"You're not a witch, Merlin. And besides, I'm counting on you to regulate the spell." She glanced at the concoction, allowing her nervousness to shine through the impassive mask she'd formed. "I want you to feed it to me."

"Me!" Beheading him wouldn't be good enough – they'd start with a rusty knife to his stomach, instead, cut him to pieces, feed him to the dog – and probably make him watch. Morgana would do all of that a lot faster, though; he took the cup.

"For the record," Merlin offered, "I was against this from the start."

"Off the record?" Morgana smiled at him lightly. "If any of this ever lands on any record, we're all going to die. Ready?"

"Never."

She lifted her chin lightly, parting her lips so that he could pour in the broth. He did so slowly, feeling a surprising amount of power in its contents. His own power seemed drawn to it, his eyes heating lightly as his power tempered the power of the cup. He didn't really know what he was doing any more than Morgana, of course; but he tried to pretend that he did. At the worst, he'd merely die a bit earlier.

Regardless of his effect on the mixture, Morgana swallowed the dirty brown drink, making a face at the undoubtedly foul tasting broth. He could sense it rushing down her throat, though, the power spreading through her extremities far faster than the drink could have. He suspected it was his own power he was sensing, linking him to the deeper, darker power of the broth – a two way street, he found, as the power boiled out of her fingertips like a miasma, reaching out its tendrils.

"I can feel it, Merlin," she whispered. I think it's going to work." She spun about her, the power rippling out; in the forest, there were two thuds – scouts. "It's working Merlin! I'm doing actual magic!"

"Just be careful!"

She spun ahead despite his warning, no doubt feeling the rush of magic at her fingertips as she ran towards the front gates. Thankfully there were no archers in the heights – though whether it was good for them, or her, Merlin didn't know yet. Everyone she did run across fell, silent forms lying on the ground so still they could have almost been dead. None of them snored – but looking closely each of them breathed. And the magic spread out further, until they found nothing but unconscious guards, and Merlin was consciously drawing the power back about them; the haze merely thickened when he did that, the guards dropping into a deeper and deeper sleep until finally he unleashed it across the entire castle; with what seemed almost an audible thump, the castle fell asleep, and they found themselves alone. Just them and the bodies.

"Come on," Morgana smiled. The spell was already starting to weaken from her after that burst – though he didn't think the effects would fade entirely until Morgana herself had given into sleep.

Together, they moved through the castle, finding their group a little inside one of the halls; swords were lying on the ground, their owners sound asleep. Hengist, their fierce brigand king, slept like a baby. Merlin actually had to suppress a chuckle as he checked on Arthur, examining the prince in detail for any injuries. "I think we're good," he declared.

Morgana didn't respond. When he glanced at her, she was tanding instead over Hengist; one of the guard's knives was in her hand; she was staring at his unmoving body.

"Morgana," Merlin began.

"Shut it, Merlin. I'm… I'm thinking…" Her voice trembled; her hand trembled. She didn't step away from the king.

"Morgana," he repeated. "It's over."

"No. He wanted to use me. He wanted to hurt other people in order to use me. I told you already, Merlin; I want him to suffer for that."

"He's helpless; the army will be here any minute. He'll be beheaded. You won't have to lift a finger."

She still didn't step away; but she didn't step closer; the world seemed to hold its breath, until the sound of footsteps moved through the hall, and knights began to emerge.

The king's armies had finally arrived.


	19. Question everything!

Uther sat in the impromptu shelter the soldiers had set up; his head was in his hands, apparently trying to ease the creases in it by force, with only the shortness of his fingernails stopping him from tearing bloody gouges through the skin. "Explain to me," he said, in a tired tone, "precisely how the Lady Morgana found herself in an enemy encampment? With you, the crown prince?"

"The roads weren't safe." Arthur spoke with a bland expression on his face, one he'd undoubtedly practiced for many years; regardless, Merlin didn't envy him the task of standing up to Uther's anger, not with the headache clearly moving behind the aged king's eyes.

"The roads weren't safe; so you took her to the enemy strong hold, instead? Was the enemy strong hold safer, Arthur? Was it a better place to bring my ward? Were the roads so unsafe, that you had to let her be captured by a brigand instead!"

The king's eyes were practically afire with anger; Arthur didn't flinch, though Merlin dearly wanted to know how much that bit of bravery cost the prince. Across the room, he noticed Morgana, her own face clenched; she was clearly preventing herself from running forward to the prince's aid.

Arthur, for his part, answered calmly – which was almost enough to make Merlin swear respect for him to the end of his days. "The roads were dangerous; the forests exposed us to unexpected dangers – there was a creature, which injured my arm and made me less than adequate protection; we had hoped to find your army and sanctuary here, but were met by guards."

Lies, of course; all lies. But Arthur, at least from the back of his head, didn't seem to show it. He met the king's stare with his own, neither of them budging; clearly, neither of them intended to; clearly, they would all just stand there until someone collapsed from exhaustion.

But Morgana broke that bleak prediction with a cough; both heads used the excuse to glance in her direction, the king no less quick than the prince. "I'm… I'm just a little bit tired," she whispered, doing a good impression of the delicate court lady. Merlin had seen her swinging a sword, though.

If the king remembered anything of her normal robust attitude, however, he didn't show it; he moved to his feet in a single swoosh of fabric, glaring about the room. "Somebody find her a bloody room in that dratted castle; get her anything she needs; the lady has been through an ordeal."

"I'd… I'd prefer Guinevere to wait on me," she said, hesitantly – but brilliantly; Merlin could well imagine which one of them would be sleeping in the feather bed. "She's a familiar touch."

The king nodded, and Guinevere peeled herself gratefully from the tent's gray walls, her head tilted towards Morgana and away from the king so that he couldn't see the look of relief on her face; that just left Lancelot of the truly exhausted – magical sleep having not been quite the same as a real nap, in the end – but of them all he was most likely to be rewarded. He, for one, hadn't ignored any of the king's commands.

With the girls gone, Uther's face turned back to Arthur; rather than resuming the deadlocked questioning, he took a new tact. "What can you tell me about the sleep? Everyone but the Lady and Morgana were lying on the castle floor when we arrived, yes?"

Arthur gave a stiff, disgruntled nod. They hadn't had time to give him any explanation – or poorly disguised excuses, at least; Merlin he would believe willingly as too stupid to know anything – but they would have to convince him later that Morgana herself had seen no clues to the sleep's origins.

"We don't know what happened," Arthur admitted; Merlin hoped he wasn't already thinking about pounding on Morgana's temporary door. "We assume that they tried some form of witchcraft, perhaps in preparation of your armies – something that went wrong; though in that case, the one responsible either fell asleep with all the rest, escaped in silence, or was smart enough to keep their heads down and blend in with the crowd after everyone arrived; I assure you, you'll know more as we do."

The king gave his own stiff nod, looking disgruntled as well but at least not pushing the issue. "Do you know why your manservant was not affected?" Morgana's name hung in the air, but Arthur seemed momentarily afraid to grip it; eventually, though, he did.

"Merlin was with Morgana, safely outside the city walls; as Morgana were the original targets – and their lives far less valuable – they were smart enough to flee the scene; I sent Merlin after her to keep him safe." Another thing they'd have to explain to him, when there was a chance. "They were safely outside of the spells range until it ended."

A momentary silence, where Uther stared into the difference, his face showing no reaction; eventually, Arthur asked "Is there anything else?"

With a shake of the king's head, Arthur turned, Merlin following out behind him, and the rest of the court following; if Lancelot was to be rewarded for his efforts, it would apparently have to wait. In the meantime, Merlin was glad simply to have one problem dealt with.

(Woot; that mostly ends this arc – story resumes with a slight time skip on Monday – for the record, Mondays [technically very early Tuesdays] are the new update days, at least for this semester of college. :)

Ah, just to make this feel more like an arc wrap up, I'm willing to do a mid-week Q&A if anyone has any questions they'd like to ask. :) Might even get answers from the cast. :P )


	20. Intermission Conversation

Merlin's ears were burning from lack of sleep as he slid the last of the chopped up reeds into a mortar and began to twist the pestle. Besides him, Morgana was hastily crushing wings, and cutting apart bits of frogs. Her own hands were trembling from lack of sleep, and something more; Merlin could feel it too, the magic trying to rise up from the ingredients, even before they'd been formally mixed together; the whole mass still needed to be boiled down, but it felt as if the potion was already sitting on the table in front of them; and already far stronger than it had been meant for.

He glanced at Morgana, but kept his mouth shut; just as they could both feel it, he was fairly certain she knew what it was. The lingering effects of the spell they had cast had tainted the ingredients they hadn't used, a backlash from the sheer amount of power they had packed into Morgana; but she wasn't willing to go back, and Merlin himself wasn't quite enthusiastic about getting knee deep in swamp water; nor did he think the king would really let Morgana leave the castle. So they worked feverishly into the night instead, neither of them willing to leave the potion ingredients lying about.

They were in one of the lesser used guestrooms, which always littered a proper castle. The room was cold, with no servants to warm it; they'd lit a tiny fire behind a grate, but were keeping it small, just enough to boil the pot they'd have in a moment. Merlin worried that one of the servants would find them any moment, but Morgana just gave him a look when he brought it up, as if it were the stupidest question ever asked.

Nobody searched unused guest rooms. If the guards bothered, they'd be doing an even worse job with the rest of the place than they already were.

"We're almost done," she goaded, tipping her little bits and pieces of creatures into a pot. Merlin followed suit, twisting his pestle about until a lumpy mush filled the mortar, and scraping it in with the rest; morgana added a little bit of water, and placed the entire mass on top of the fire, the red hot flames lifting up despite their minimal fuel to lick the bottom of the pot and bring it closer to boiling.

It took a few minutes standing like that before Morgana broke the habitual silence. "Do you think we'll be spending the rest of our lives like this, Merlin?"

He shook his head slightly. "Magic's going to be free one day, from what I gather; during Arthur's reign." He gives her a worried look when the last part slips out, but her face is turned away; he can't read her expression – but there's a tired laugh in her voice.

"You tell me I'm nice, as well as good, but at the end of the day you're as scared of anyone of what I'll do, aren't you Merlin?"

There's no response to that; staring at the pot, he wishes it would boil a little faster. Morgana placed her hand on his shoulder, squeezing lightly with a very small smile. "I'm not going to go kill Uther in his sleep, Merlin; for one thing, Arthur's not ready to be king."

"Thanks, Morgana; I'm sure he'll love hearing that." The liquid had turned to a dark purple, before the first bubble appeared. He shifted the pot slowly, hoping Morgana would stop her talking.

"And even if he was," she continued, "I'm not going to kill him because of what he's done in the past; it would just cause more destruction. So long as he doesn't start doing worse things in the future, everything's fine. And we can probably stop most things he might want to do, anyway…"

"Good to know." Merlin gave a tired sigh, shaking the pot a little as it bubbled down. Morgana lifted a crystal vile, and he carefully poured the contents down into its new home, where she stoppered it tightly. "Do you often think about killing the king, then?"

A small smile, when she shook her head. "Escaping him, sometimes; but never killing him. He makes a better king than he does a person, from a technical standpoint. The people are faring well, as a whole."

"Except the magic user." Merlin sounded bitter to himself; and surprised by it. He didn't think he wanted to kill Uther, either.

"Most of the people who could bothered by it are already dead; the rest, we do our best to protect and save what's left. It's called practicality, Merlin." She gave him a small smile, not unkind, gripping his hand and guiding him out the door. "Give it a little, and you'll get used to it."

"Do I want to?"

"Does it matter?" She led him out the door, releasing his hand once they were in the hallways, in case a guard should happen to be a bit more efficient than normal. She kept her fingers wrapped tightly around the medicine, and walked carefully down the hallway; there was a whiff of marshes in the castle air, for some reason, though she was fairly certain it didn't come from either her or Merlin.

The thought was pushed from her mind further when she heard the sound of voices, quickly moving a few steps ahead of Merlin for propriety; Uther was at the center of a small cluster of people – a blonde prominently amongst them, talking through a broad smile. Uther smiled when he saw them, uncomfortably unaware of what they had been talking about.

"Morgana," he grinned. "May I introduce you to the Lady Catrina?"

((New Arc! Late, but still. :) Going in accordance with Merlin series, this was bound to happen next – and again, it's bound to differentiate from the show.

'Cause, you know… otherwise it gets boring. :P 

Since this is a castle arc, however, you'll be seeing a lot more of familiar faces.

Other than that – sorry that this isn't my most detailed and brilliant piece, considering the delay; I'm working with some kinks in my schedule, still – AKA "I need to start focusing on what I'm doing at any given point, because I'm wasting a lot of my time on other things"))


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